Without warning the surface of the swamp exploded, sending waves of green water cascading for yards in every direction.
The two men gave the call to their comrades, and the confused fighters sprang up from their disturbed rest. Sword held ready, Sarion bounded over to where a large shape broke through the water, elongating into a nightmarish figure, swiftly closing in towards Kalen, who was still shaking off the throes of a deep slumber.
"Kalen, get back!" Grundel's voice was shrill, and he was on his feet instantly, trying to protect the men and determine the nature of what threatened them.
All eyes watched in astonishment at the unspeakable creature which burst from the water. A long, twisting body churned out from the bottom of the swamp, green and armored with scales, slime and muck oozing from its plated torso. Bog plants fell off its form, species which thrived within the hidden depths of the murky waters. An immense head swayed from side to side, hideous and knobbed with a trio of pointed horns, fronted by a slavering maw lined with rows of countless teeth, each one a wicked dagger several inches long. It was a behemoth of vast proportions, with seemingly no end to its barreling trunk.
Sarion charged ahead, a stricken feeling in his chest at the sight of Kalen only scant yards from the approaching monster. He knew that the fighter was too far away even as he struggled desperately to reach his side. The brave warrior waited until the head was almost upon him, and he dodged to the left, rolling in the moist ground.
Hope flitted through Sarion's heart as it appeared the man was quicker than the raging creature, but with incredible agility, the monster's snout pivoted to the side, hungrily snatching the helpless warrior up in its open mouth. No one was close enough to give aid to Kalen, and the fighters watched in utter horror as the beast quickly withdrew back into the swamp and plunged beneath the dark waters with a tremendous splash, a single, lingering wail of anguish escaping from the warrior's lips before both were gone.
Sarion felt a sickening knot in his stomach as he stared in disbelief at the rings of water, the only indication as to the disastrous end of Kalen.
"Get the horses, back away from the edge! The beast might yet return!" Grundel's commanding voice snapped the men out of their shock, but Forlern and Sarion remained at the swamp's edge.
"Kalen's gone -- just like that! By my sworn oath, this is a land of devils!" Forlern's sword gleamed dully from the distant torch light, his jaw clenched tightly in rage.
"Let's go, we can't fight such a monster here. Hurry." Sarion grabbed the fighter's arm, pulling him towards the others.
Forlern stared into Sarion's face, a smoldering fury burning in the orbs like hot coals. "To go like that, without even a chance."
"We must live to fight another day, Forlern. I know your anger. I saw nearly fifty of my companions fall prey to Grammore."
The fighter breathed deeply, then went with Sarion, eyes still fixed on the silent waters. Several of the men were on horseback already, the others scrambling to follow. The captain beckoned to Forlern and Sarion, and they hastened over.
"We must go inland, and put some distance between ourselves and the swamp." Sarion leaped onto his steed, a bitter scowl creasing Grundel's face. "I should never have trusted the water's edge, it's my poor judgment."
"No -- don't blame yourself, Captain," Sarion snapped. "There are no safe regions in Grammore. There was nothing any of us could do. Who would have thought such a nightmare lived in the waters? Nothing prepares one for the evil in this land."
Grundel reined his horse forward, motioning at Chertron. "Sarion, go ahead with the lead, see if we can find somewhere to spend the rest of the night, then we stop. Forlern and I will guard the rear. My guess is that the creature will not wander from the swamp's edge. There must be deep waters to harbor a monster of that size, and it will not be so protected on land."
"More bad luck as well," Rundin called over. "Kalen's steed broke loose during the attack. Lost like its master..."
Sarion rode forward, the company waiting in mute sorrow, their hearts darkened by the death of their brave comrade. They trotted the animals forward into the night, black thoughts weighing heavily on the company from the loss of another comrade-in-arms, and they eventually settled down in a grassy clearing, where there was little chance of being taken unawares. No one felt like sleeping, and it was a long time before any lay down to rest. Conversation was fragmented, and they gazed into each other's eyes, all of them realizing they could be the next victim to fall beneath Grammore's mighty and unforgiving violence.
The hours stretched by without mishap as the men took turns at watch, the surrounding landscape pierced with distant howls and cries of unfortunate creatures, constant reminder as to the nature of the hostile region where they dared to travel as unwelcome trespassers.
***
Dawn arrived, sullen and gray, promising little cheer to the band of weary fighters. The inhospitable weather served to dampen already aching spirits, as the waking men were assaulted again by the horrors of the past night. Sarion sat on a flat rock, an out-of-place structure in the clearing. Saddened by the loss of Kalen, he pondered the end game facing Grundel and his warriors.
The captain approached, trying to instill words of encouragement to the dour-faced fighters.
"What thoughts have you now, Captain Grundel?" Sarion read the hidden pain in the man's eyes, a hurt that needed to be repressed by the unwavering call of duty. To do any less would be a failure to his calling as the King's own.
"My orders remain, of course, but much has been learned by our venture thus far. I think we make a sweep around the edge of the swamp, circling in hopes of finding the ogre again, although I admit the chances are slim."
"The beast is at home here," Sarion answered. "If it does indeed serve another, then it might be in our best interest to return to our lands, soon, and you can convey our knowledge to King Gregor. As for what he intends to do with the knowledge, you would be the better judge."
"Additional patrols, enlistment preparations for the western provinces. Such things are in motion as we speak."
Sarion nodded. "Looks like I won't be returning to farm work for a while."
Grundel clapped him on his shoulder in a gesture of comradeship. "You have far proven your worth, Sarion. Needless to say, I'll be personally recommending you for reinstatement in the Western Guard. With men such as yourself, Trencit has much to hope for."
Kicking his muddy boots, Sarion grimaced. "Thanks for the kind words, Captain, but first we need to complete this journey. We'll need fortune smiling on our backs to return alive."
They stared at each other in silence, grim-faced and apprehensive, their thoughts darkened by the loss of Kalen. It would be a long time until either man could lift the black cloud weighing heavily on their hearts.
The warriors skirted the edge of the fen, staying back from the deeper pools and softer ground. There was no desire from any of them to tempt the denizens of the swamp once more. Sarion rode at the lead, Chertron's stern face gazing ahead in every direction -- looking, listening, and concentrating. Sarion himself wondered as to the length of the great swamp, which showed no sign of dispersing. He knew that Grammore was filled with bogs and dense forests, but no actual map existed in defining the mysterious land. It appeared as little more than a name on every one he'd ever looked over, even while serving in the Western Guard. A white area of unknown size and terrain, a wilderness of mammoth proportions. How large was it?
Dawn was long past, but the sun would remain elusive yet again, Sarion thought, staring at the stifling cloud cover overhead, which was barely visible through the ever-present rolling mist. The fog pressed down on the men, oppressive and uncomfortable, speaking of harbored secrets, hidden threats. The land was vocal there, the droning of insects mingling with lonely cries of marsh birds. Scavengers and rodents scurried in front of the horses, including swamp rats larger than any Sarion could imagine. Chertron's horse stumbled, and the warrior nearly lost his seating. He gasped as
the animal pitched forward, neighing loudly.
"Steady, steady!" Chertron grabbed the reins, patting his horse, which grew increasingly agitated.
Sarion held up his hand for a halt. "Chertron, what is it? What's bothering her?" He backed away, his own mount excited. The warrior's efforts to calm the horse were becoming desperate, and he was in danger of being thrown off. The animal was now prancing in circles, kicking wildly in the air.
"Something's wrong here! Chertron, jump off!" Sarion kept his own horse at bay, handing the reins to Rundin. He tried approaching Chertron, but the enraged animal was kicking savagely at the surrounding vegetation. It was then that Sarion saw the cause of the horse's distress. A long snake slithered past the animal, heading into a clump of grass.
"A viper -- she must have been bitten." The horse was foaming at the mouth, and heaved the warrior about. It was too much for him, and he went flying to one side, crashing hard on the ground, but luckily rolled with the fall and quickly regained his footing.
The horse continued bucking, braying in pain from the wound. "Chertron, have a care! The snake was in that grass."
Chertron hurried away from the area, reaching Sarion's side. "Curses. Bitten by a snake. What misfortune will strike next?"
Grundel was now up front with the men, and they watched as the horse carried recklessly into the brush, making a tremendous commotion.
"We should put her out of misery -- whatever bit her was lethal. Notch an arrow, we can't save her." Grundel gestured to Chertron, and he quickly pulled out his bow. Sarion followed suit, but the horse already was moving out of range, thundering behind a group of thick, gray trees, with sprawling roots and a canopy so packed with foliage that the tops were obscured.
Chertron and Grundel moved ahead as the horse nickered loudly. "Hurry," whispered Sarion. "Such a disturbance may alert nearby predators." Chertron crouched down on one knee, sighting with his eye.
Sarion stood behind him, and Grundel searched the forest, clearly anxious by the animal's disruption. Chertron aimed the arrow, his fingers on the verge of release. Sarion stared suddenly at the odd trees, his mouth opening in a gesture of recognition.
"Wait," he hissed. "Hold your shot."
His warning was too late and the shaft flew confidently through the air, slicing directly at the horse's breast. Above the horse, in the shrouded branches, there was a flash of movement. A pair of crooked, hairy arms burst downward, long and gnarled, grabbing at the animal and snatching it into the air.
The men watched in astonishment as the arrow connected into one of the hideous appendages, embedding deep into the crusted flesh. A cry of anguish bellowed from the tree's heights, and the horse was impaled by several more of the unseen creature's limbs. They darted out madly from the branches, stabbing into the limp animal again and again, a frenzy of blinding attacks, mistaking the arrow as a wound inflicted from the horse. Sarion pulled the other men with him, putting a finger to his lips for silence. Grundel backed away, staring at the flurry of limbs that still struck blows at the dead animal, dozens of appendages ripping chunks of flesh from its bloodied coat. The men were quiet until they reached the rest of the fighters. Sarion pointed south, away from the swamp and the monster ahead.
"I've never seen such speed in all my life." Chertron's eyes reflected his horror. "What was that creature?"
"I don't know, but we lost four men in that same manner." Sarion shook his head, his memory going back seven years ago to another part of Grammore. "They were taken and dragged into the trees. Back then, we were too startled to make a connection, but now, after seeing the same trees, I realize that the monster makes its lair there, up in the dense foliage. The cries of the horse brought it from slumber, or maybe it waits for such a thing, I know not. Either way, the creature is incredibly deadly."
"We have to be on the watch for the trees. Hopefully, they live only in that species." Grundel organized the men for a change of route, and Chertron stared back from where they had escaped the creature's notice. "I shudder to think if they start to change habitat."
"If they do, it could very well spell the end for all of us. Let's not even think about that prospect." Sarion watched as Tarral and Areck shared the same mount, Grundel stating that it was more important for Chertron to remain sole rider of another horse as he was the only tracker from his company.
The captain talked to the warriors, ordering them to remain vigilant to everything around them, on the ground and overhead. "Fortune favors no man in this forsaken country," he said. "In the east, you can see the enemy, guess at the attacks, prepare for conflict. In this land, every shadow, any movement, can bring swift death. We all know this now. Our mission is quickly drawing to completion, for the king himself would not want us to continue risking our lives in Grammore. We'll push on until tonight, and if our quarry still eludes us, then our task is done -- no more can such a group accomplish. I need a hundred men at least to go much further in this country."
"Even so," replied Sarion, "a larger force may offer protection to some extent, but word could spread quickly, and the more organized creatures of Grammore might move against us, with the potential for us to be fighting every step of the way. We don't know anything for sure."
The captain absorbed Sarion's words for a moment, withholding any comment. He positioned the fighters once more and they started off, with one less horse and surviving yet another harrowing brush with disaster.
***
In the lead again, Sarion and Chertron picked a navigable path for the company, the latter constantly peering in the boughs overhead, as if in dreadful anticipation of coming within the grasp of the deadly monster that had carried away his former mount.
Sarion was not quite as concerned about this prospect compared to any other threat, but his watchful eyes missed nothing, above or about. His senses were refined to the point of making him quite possibly the greatest tracker in the westland. His skills were unparalleled, as much from raw instinct as to years of training in the field. But unknown to the others, he kept some observations to himself. In the past several days he'd noticed many signs which had secretly alarmed him. Footprints of predatory beasts, various creatures both harmless and dangerous alike, large and small. The majority of the deadlier species were nocturnal, stalking the night for the unwary. They inhabited every corner of the Lowlands, every varying terrain. Always present, working their way through the jungle in search of food or prey. But Sarion especially looked out for droppings, for the strongest of Grammore marked their individual territories with their own leavings and scent. So far there had been no sign.
This matter concerned Sarion far greater than anything else.
He knew with chilling certainty there existed powerful beasts which claimed huge regions as their own hunting ground. To venture into such an area would pose a tremendous peril to the warriors. He didn't want to alarm them further, but the creatures they had encountered so far were the normal kinds, dangerous enough, but living within a limited, narrow range. The real terrors of Grammore held vast miles of wilderness under their sway, attacking any poachers with stunning ferocity. He was fairly sure that the group would not enter into such a territory, as yet being on the edges of the Lowlands. But the possibility existed.
When the company paused for a brief rest, Sarion decided to talk openly with Grundel about his fears, especially if they were to push much deeper into the interior.
"Do these monsters stray beyond the borders, I wonder?" asked Grundel.
"I would think not, unless driven away by something more formidable," answered Sarion. "A stronger predator, or lack of game. Or to increase its territory. I know little, but guess at much. Based on the vast diversity of wildlife, the unique species inhabiting Grammore, it seems a plausible conclusion."
"Ah, but your assumptions hold greater weight than most people's knowledge, and you've more than proven your worth, Sarion. Many times over. If not for you, we would all have been lost, a long while back." He rubbed the growth on hi
s chin, a far-away look in his eyes. "The King sorely underestimated the evil of Grammore." Grundel hesitated. "And myself, for that matter. Brave men have met their end because of our shortsightedness."
Sarion disagreed. "You can't blame yourself, Captain. There's a threat to Trencit from the west, and the nature is of great concern to King Gregor and his counselors. It was the correct decision to track the ogre, and like you, I'm eager to understand the reason behind its actions. I think you're partly right about a larger purpose, but I'm not quite sure it will be what we expect."
"Meaning what?"
Sarion looked back at the men, speaking in hushed tones, several on guard. "I wish I knew that answer for you. This land holds many secrets, and doesn't give them up very easily."
Grundel nodded lightly and stood, preparing to move ahead, but a sharp look from Sarion froze him in his tracks.
"Captain, try to act normal. In the bushes behind you, about twenty yards away." Sarion turned his head, not staring directly at the spot.
"We're being watched."
***
"Act disinterested -- whatever you do, don't give us away." Sarion's voice was low, a whispered warning to Grundel. He casually stretched his arms back, yawning deeply, and walked towards Forlern, who was busy sharpening his blade. The captain followed the man's lead, pretending to adjust one of his boots, muttering under his breath, and turning in the direction of the watcher. Sarion was closer to the forest edge, discussing something with Forlern.
Grundel restrained himself from approaching the lurker, trusting in Sarion's instincts. To the shock of Forlern, and several of the fighters as well, Sarion spun around with catlike speed, moving so quickly that even Grundel looked amazed.
Sarion drew his bow, notching an arrow and pointing it with deadly purpose into a section of bushes only yards from where he now stood. There was a slight rustling from the thickets, and the only sound was Sarion's voice, speaking to whatever lay hidden in the undergrowth. He stepped forward, eyes never leaving his mark, Forlern a pace behind him, a sword gleaming in his hand.
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