The Attic

by Rachel Xu

  “I know.” He met eyes with Lily in an apologetic glance. She looked frightened. “We'll take breaks as needed and warm up afterwards.”

  She frowned. “Does anything, uh, dangerous, live in this swamp?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  It was a lie.

  There was something lurking in the swamp; something that had started out quite small but had been growing for many years since.

  When Ian left Alvernia as a boy, he'd taken some kind of tadpole from his father’s collection of species, thinking it a frog. He’d then released the little creature into the bog. Later, when he realized his mistake (that it was no tadpole), a year had already passed. Of course it was possible the creature had died right off the bat, for he'd seen no sign of it in the few times he'd been at the bog—but he wasn't about to assume this. Better to err on the side of caution.

  The three of them trudged forward in a row, every step threatening to suck off their boots.

  He looked at Lily. Her face was ashen and taut, but she was at least keeping up.

  Varkis, on the other hand, would not stop voicing his complaints.

  “I'm never gonna get this guck out of my fur. Couldn't we fashion a boat so we don't have to swim through this slime?”

  “We don't have time.”

  “I'm going to itch for weeks. Look at this—” He raised his arms from the goop, revealing half a dozen leeches.

  “You're also going to smell like rotten eggs,” Lily cut in. She grinned as she said it but her eyes remained clouded.

  The sludgy waters had nearly reached their shoulders.

  “It's not the swamp that smells like rotten eggs,” the dog-man responded. “The mushrooms I had for lunch made me gaseous.”

  Ian took another step forward and the water bed gave way beneath him, forcing him to tread water. “Here we go,” he said, swimming with wide frontward strokes, arms getting tangled in the weeds.

  Their progress was slow-going as they swam around protruding tree branches, logs, and patches of reeds. He tried not to think about what might lurk beneath but his heart drummed in his chest. What if something sucked Lily down before he could do anything to stop it? The water was opaque: even if he dived after her it would impossible to see anything.

  Brown bubbles broke the surface around him and he choked on the smell. Slime splattered his face as a large one burst in front of him. He wiped away the goo, gagging, and spat out a chunk of weed.

  “Ian,” Varkis barked, laughing, “hold it in, man.”

  “What are you talking about?” He shot a glare over his shoulder.

  “The bubbles, what else? You ate more mushrooms than I did.”

  “Ha.” He paused, treading water, and peeled a leech off his neck. Lily wrapped an arm around a log, propping herself up. Varkis followed suit.

  “Is that a child—!” she gasped, pointing toward the fog ahead.

  “Where?” He grabbed onto the log and peered over it, straining to see through the mist.

  Some forty feet ahead, something or someone lay slumped over a tree branch—the lower three-quarters of its body submerged in the swamp.

  “Hey, kid,” Varkis shouted, “you okay?”

  The child didn't move.

  “Oh, he must be unconscious—” Lily cried, eyes wide.

  Or dead.

  “We've got to save him. If he slides off the branch, he'll drown!”

  “Lily—” He grabbed her arm, restraining her. “Why would a child even be out here? We're miles from civilization.” He looked about in all directions. Varkis was sniffing the air.

  “I don't know how he got here,” she said, blinking rapidly, a tear running down her cheek. “But we can't just leave him!”

  Ian frowned, straining to get a better look at the unmoving, powder-white back of the child.

  Black weeds clung to its skin like tangled overalls.

  “Ian, I can smell you and Lily,” Varkis said in a low voice, eyes narrowed, “but I can't smell that kid.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I'm saying—”

  “—Ian, look,” Lily interrupted, her voice high-pitched with fright.

  As if in slow motion, the child's body raised itself to an upright position, rivulets of water trailing down his back. His head was completely bald and weeds swirled around his waist as his body twitched, increasing in momentum.

  Like someone waving a rag doll on a stick.

  “He's alive—” Lily yanked her arm free and hiked a leg over the log. She dropped into the water on the other side and took off toward it.

  “Wait,” he shouted, climbing over the log and plunging after her as she swam with wide strokes toward the child, pushing vegetation out of her way as she went.

  “Lily, stop,” he cried out, “it's a trap—”

  “—I'm almost there.” She reached the child and spun him around.

  A pallid face without a nose stared back at them with unblinking eyes and a fish-like mouth.

  Lily screamed.

  Ian's boots struck something soft and squishy as he tried to pull her away. He steadied his balance only to be raised two feet above the water—his feet squarely planted on the head of a giant eel.

  The doll face and torso rose higher, revealing a tentacle rather than legs. Useless arms hung at its side like rubber.

  It was an appendage, not a child. A “finger puppet” lure.

  Varkis reached them and yanked Lily into his arms. They took off as Ian struggled to keep his balance.

  He looked down.

  The lower jaw of the inky eel jutted out beneath him in a grotesque underbite with dozens of needle-thin teeth.

  Attempting to toss Ian aside, the slick body thrashed to and fro, sending waves of swamp water in every direction.

  Ian dropped down and wrapped his legs around the throat. He pulled a knife from his belt and thrust it into the gills. The eel let out a screech as yellow blood oozed from the wound.

  Hissing, it dove under the water and took him with it. With no chance to grab a breath of air, he got a mouthful of rancid water instead and lost his grip. He tried in vain to grab hold again as he slid down the eel's back and slipped off the end of the doll-face tail.

  Ian thrashed his arms and legs, opening his eyes to look about. The water was opaque. The eel could be anywhere by now—behind him, about to attack, or gaining ground on Lily and Varkis.

  He kicked hard and propelled himself upward, breaking the surface with a gasp of air, and grabbing onto the first branch he could find.

  The eel's giant head rose above the surface of the water in his peripheral vision, some fifteen feet away, and charged toward him—sending up great arcs of water on either side.

  Chapter 28

  A bullet whizzed past Ian, piercing the eel in the jaw.

  Shaking its head left and right, the eel dove underwater and with a great whip of its tail, shot out of the swamp and hurtled through the air toward Ian—its mouth agape.

  Another shot rang out, then another and another. Bullets zipped overhead embedding themselves in a row up the backside of the airborne creature until one hit it right between the eyes. It let out a roar and belly-flopped to the water as Ian dove out of the way.

  Within seconds, the lifeless body had sunk out of sight in the murk, bubbles breaking the surface in its wake.

  For a moment all was still.

  Then the sleek black body bobbed up again and floated on the surface.

  Ian half expected to see Hannah to the rescue again as he scanned the swamp for the source of the shots. Instead he found Mike clinging to the trunk of a nearby tree, a gun in hand and weeds tangled about his waist.

  “Don't kill me, Ian,” he said gruffly, wiping swamp water and mud from his brow with the side of the hand that held the pistol. “I can explain everything—”

  “First, give me the gun.”

  “It's empty,” he said, tossing it
over anyway.

  Ian caught it and checked the cartridge. “All right,” he said, catching sight of Lily and Varkis returning through the distant fog, likely drawn by the sound of gunfire. “You'd better have one good explanation for all this. Have you been following us all this time?”

  “Yes.”

  Ian narrowed his eyes.

  For some reason Mike had saved his life in direct rebellion of Kurik's orders. I didn't add up. “Let's get out of the swamp,” he said, “then we'll talk.” He let go of the branch and swam. “Don't try anything either,” he said over his shoulder, “or you'll never set foot on dry land again.”

  After about ten minutes, they reached an isle covered in bronzed willow trees. Varkis and Lily caught up with them as Ian and Mike stood on the shore, peeling weeds and leeches off, and shaking out some of the water clogging their clothes. Mike explained to him about the puppeteer.

  Varkis climbed onto shore on all fours and barred his teeth, growling, but Ian raised a hand. “Leave him be. He saved my life.”

  Lily gave Mike a wary look. “Can we trust him?”

  “He was possessed by one of Morack's creatures. It used him like a puppet. But it seems to be gone now.” Ian let out a long exhale, relieved beyond measure to have Lily by his side again. “We haven't time to discuss it. It'll be dark soon and I don't want to spend the night in this swamp.” He was beginning to doubt Kurik was ahead of them. There'd been no sign of him.

  “Are there any more of those eels out there?” Mike asked.

  “Don't think so. He's the only one I brought here years back and they can't reproduce without a mate.” Ian ran both hands through his wet hair. “Let's get to the Jubaka tree, and then get the heck out of here.”

  In the center of the tiny island, cloaked by the willows, was a grouping of six trees which formed a perimeter around a clearing. The trunks were transparent and fireworks of all colors exploded continuously within them. The coniferous boughs blotted out the colors from any plane that might fly overhead.

  It was like a mini carnival in the middle of a shrouded swamp.

  There was no sign that anyone had been here either. No tracks leading up to the trees, no scent of Kurik.

  How was it possible that they'd beaten him to it? Was he lost?

  Or was he trailing close behind, waiting for them to do the work for him?

  “Are those trees from the singing forest?” Lily's whispered.

  He nodded, holding her close to his side. “You stay here with Varkis and I'll go in alone to extract the acid sacs.”

  She grabbed his arm. “I want to come with you.”

  “You can't. They'll kill you.”

  “Who will?”

  “The trees.”

  Her face paled and she nodded. Mike stood further back beside the waving pendant leaves of a willow, arms crossed over his chest as he kept an uncertain eye on Varkis. It was dusk now and the sky was turning blacker by the minute. Shadows filled the spaces between bushes and the fog was closing in on them, threatening to suffocate. The air was cold and damp. Ian didn't want to leave Lily alone but knew Varkis would protect her.

  He left them and approached the brilliant trees, hesitating at the edge. Death lurked in the intertwining branches fifty feet above the clearing in the form of the gaping maw of the Jubaka plant. Should anyone enter the clearing, the great mouth would shoot down and shallow them whole. It was what he'd hoped would happen to Kurik.

  Ian stood between two trees and looked up.

  The Jubaka's mouth resembled a Venice Fly Trap: wide, flat, and rimmed with hundreds of spiky teeth.

  He considered climbing one of the trees to reach it but discarded the idea. It would be too easy for the Jubaka to pluck him off the trunk. There was only one option.

  Ian lunged into the clearing.

  The maw came shooting out of the treetops, its long neck a mass of plaited vines. The jaws snapped shut inches from Ian's head as he dove out of the way and rolled across the dirt. Jumping to his feet, he leaped onto the Jubaka's neck, wrapping his arms and legs around it. The creature let out a cry of rage and recoiled like a spring, raising Ian high up into the treetops above.

  Desperate to rid itself of him, the Jubaka thrashed about, smashing him against jutting tree branches. He struggled to hang on, clenching his teeth against the pain. And just when he thought the Jubaka was beginning to tire, it slammed him into a tree trunk. Pain coursed through his spine. Not wanting to risk a broken back, he let go.

  The Jubaka opened its mouth and snatched him up in its powerful jaws.

  Ian grit his teeth together, waiting to be impaled. Instead, the plant flipped up its head like a heron with a fish, and he tumbled into the throat.

  The esophagus constricted, pulling him in head first.

  He could barely move but struggled to reach the hunting knife in his belt. He could no longer breathe. Any minute now his ribs would be crushed.

  He wrapped his fingers around the handle and withdrew the blade. With all the strength he had left, he tore at the esophagus wall, slashing it up and down, left and right. The beast roared and tried to regurgitate him, but he dug the blade in deeper, slashing repeatedly. Warm blood spurted about him, soaking his clothes and skin. He continued to cut.

  The Jubaka's roar turned to a choked gurgle as the knife finally split through the throat. Ian pushed himself into the wound until it ripped open—and he fell through, plummeting to the ground.

  His shoulder popped out of its socket as he collided with a hefty branch. Pain coursed through his body and he was unable to grab hold of the branch. Slipping from it, he dropped another five feet before colliding with another branch—blue blood from the Jubaka spraying down around him.

  He then fell ten feet to the clearing floor, the earthy ground like cement upon impact. His knife landed a second later, the blade penetrating the ground inches from his face.

  Ian lay sprawled on his back, his dislocated arm twisted beneath him, his ribs cracked. It was all he could do to breathe through the pain but he knew it wouldn't last long.

  Blue blood continued to splatter the dead leaves and earth around him. He closed his eyes, imagining a warm summer rain.

  “Ian!” Lily's voice pierced his drifting consciousness and he opened one eye.

  Lily, Mike and Varkis were hurrying towards him.

  Already the pain was decreasing as his body grew numb mending itself.

  “I'm fine,” he said, bright lights flickering before his eyes as he struggled to his feet, brushing leaves and blue goop from his clothing with his good arm. “Varkis, can you give me a hand popping this arm back in place?”

  Varkis probed Ian's shoulder with his fingers, bent his elbow, and rotated his arm and shoulder in towards his chest. Then, keeping Ian's upper arm against his side, he rotated his shoulder and forearm outwards. Ian's brow beaded with sweat and he grit his teeth against the pain.

  Varkis' long, dog-like tongue slid over his lips as he focused on the most difficult part of the task. Gripping Ian's wrist, he pushed slowly, forcing the shoulder back into its socket with a sickening pop.

  Ian relaxed. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, rotating his arm to see that it was working right. He retrieved his knife and put it into his belt. “You must have done this before, Varkis.”

  “Many times.”

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Lily asked, touching his shoulder and searching his gaze.

  He shook his head and looked up into the tree branches. “Not anymore.”

  “Is it dead?” Lily asked.

  “Almost.” He pointed at the nearby tree trunks. “Take a look.”

  Lily's eyes widened, face falling into shadow as the multicolored lights of the tree trunks faded to gray and flickered white. As the Jubaka bled to death, it was sucking the life out of the trees. Far out of sight above them, it groaned like the distant howling of a wolf.

  Ian nudged them to the side. “We'd bette
r move out of the way—”

  No sooner had he spoken when the Jubaka's head slid from the branches above and fell towards them, stopping inches from the forest floor as the long neck reached its limit and went taut; looking like a pendulum in the clearing.

  The Jubaka was dead.

  All around them, the clear tree trunks were a greenish white, like skeletal X-rays. Soon the lights would be out completely and they'd be surrounded by darkness. Time was running out to retrieve the acid sacs.

  Ian stepped up to the head, pulled the knife from his belt, and dug it into the base of the skull. He pulled back a flap of skin large enough to expose the bone just as a splash sounded in the nearby bog.

  Pausing, he went to the edge of the circular clearing, motioning for Varkis to follow, who was already on the alert.

  “Can you see what's out there?” he whispered. Though Ian could see exceptionally well in the dark, Varkis' vision was nearly twice as good.

  Varkis peered intently at the swamp and his lips curled back over his canine teeth. “It's your brother,” he snarled, “about one hundred feet away. And he's not alone.” Varkis lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear. “There appears to be two ogres surrounding him like bodyguards. Lorgans.”

  Ian's chest tightened.

  Lorgans used to guard his father's palace. They were creatures the same height as men with muscular shoulders, protruding bellies, and mottled gray skin. Moles, warts and bumps covered their bodies and they had multiple misshapen eyes as though their faces were made of melting wax.

  Ian motioned for Varkis to follow and then hurried to Lily who stood next to the Jubaka, her eyes wide. “Is it . . . him?” Her voice was the faintest of whispers.

  He nodded. “We're out of time, they're too close. By the time I cut through the bone to get to the sacs, they'll have reached the clearing. We've no choice but to leave it.”

  What a fool—he'd played right into Kurik's hands—had nearly killed himself in vain.

  Ian led Lily out of the clearing on the opposite side, with Mike and Varkis next to them. “We'll circle wide around,” he instructed.