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been pulled from her bedroll. Er ril had warily peeked out to discover the boy
standing there. The fiery-headed youth had hissed at them to leave before they
could even collect their supplies. Leave it, he had scolded. Dead men don t
need bedrolls.
At first, no one had moved. Finally, Mycelle had sighed and sheathed her twin
swords. The wit ch knows these lands. If she says run, we d better heed her
minion.
The boy had grabbed her aunt s arm, obviously relieved to find an ally, and
practically yanked her toward the door. The monster comes. Hurry!
Er ril was less convinced. He kept a hand gripped on Elena s shoulder. At the
door, the boy had raised his gaze to the tall plains-
man. I do this to save your wit ch. If you wish to die, then stay. But let
the girl live.
Even Elena could tell it was not a mere boy that spoke. It was the
swamp wit ch.
Grumbling, Er ril had finally relented and pushed Elena forward. The boy
quickly led them out the door and away from the dock. This way! he had
insisted. He guided them to a crudely constructed craft nestled among the
reeds. It was smaller than their own punt, but with no supplies, the boat was
roomy enough. It seemed to be constructed of tightly woven strands of some
thick vine and was encrusted with a layer of yellow moss.
While Fardale sniffed at it, Jaston had studied the craft doubtfully, then
shrugged and stepped into it The others followed as Jaston searched for the
pole to work the boat. Before he could finish his search, the crude vessel had
simply slipped away from the bank on its own and glided into the deeper
waters.
Now, as the echoes of the explosion from the lodge died around them, the small
boat picked up speed.
It s traveling faster than the current, Jaston commented, wonder and fear
equally mixed in his expression.
Without a lantern, the swamp was a black cave around them. Even the stars and
moon were masked by the night s clouds and mists.
Only a fool travels the bog at night, Jaston mumbled near the stern.
The boy glanced back at his words, his face twisted with exaggerated fear.
Then I d better run home,
he said, and toppled overboard.
Er ril s arm reached out for the boy; then he caught himself with a dour shake
of his head. I hate when they do that, he said under his breath.
I think the wit ch tires, Mycelle said from beside Elena. I wager it takes
immense concentration and strength to create one of her moss children. If
she s forced to move and guide the boat, she probably can t maintain the child
any longer. There are limits to an ele-mental s ability.
We should ve used more caution, Er ril said. Who is to say the boy s talk
of monsters was real?
I felt a stirring, Mycelle argued. Something strangely muted, but corrupt.
I couldn t tell for sure what it was, except that whatever pursues us has been
touched by black magicks.
Her statement silenced the conversation. It felt uncomfortable to speak in the
darkness anyway, as if their mere voices would bring some new foul creature
into their midst.
Yet the swamp held no such qualms. The music of the night returned to claim
the darkness. Strange, warbling cries echoed back and forth across the waters,
and under it droned a constant croaking, chirping, and creaking.
Something huge suddenly splashed into the water only a stone s throw away or
at least it sounded that
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close to Elena. She huddled closer to Mycelle. Her aunt put an arm around her.
Why don t you try to sleep? she whispered in Elena s ear.
Darkness hid Elena s incredulous expression. Sleep would never claim her this
night.
As the boat glided through unknown dangers, her eyes slowly grew accustomed to
the blackness. The darkness was not as complete as Elena had first suspected.
In the distance, strange glows would shine forth in the mists for a few
heartbeats, then fade away. Closer, swarms of sparking insects swept away in
huge clouds from their passing boat. Occasional hanging ropes of moss glowed a
soft green from branches overhead; some even pulsed languidly in the night
breeze. At one point, the vessel swept through a dark pond, but in its wake,
the disturbed algae blew bright with an azure hue, leaving a brilliant trail
behind them.
The wondrous sights were not lost on the others. There is much beauty here,
Mycelle whispered.
But beware its pretty face, Jaston answered her. Among the bogs and fens,
beauty is often used to lull the unwary to their death. Remember the pleasing
scent of the moonblossom.
As if to support his claim, a viper swam past the bow of the boat, its body
gleaming a radiant crimson as it twisted through the waters. Still, beauty is
beauty, Mycelle said with a sigh. So the night passed. No one slept. But as
nothing directly threatened them as they traveled, they were able to relax
and, in some small way, appreciate the wonders hidden among these lands. For
brief moments, Elena could almost understand Jaston s ability to call the
swamps home.
At long last, the skies to the east began to lighten with dawn. And while the
sun was welcome, the calm of the night was shattered by what the new light
revealed.
Around them, trees had grown so high that their crowns vanished into the foggy
clouds above. Boles of these swamp giants were as big around as the stone
lodge they had fled, and monstrous tangles of huge roots rose from the waters,
creating twisted arches over the channel. Creatures of leathery wings and
sharp claws hung upside down from these roots as they passed beneath them,
wings wrapped like cloaks around their sleeping bodies. Walls of webs also lay
draped across the snarls of heavy roots, with spiders the size of small dogs
hunched in their center, fangs dripping a red oil as their boat passed.
Elena glanced away. The spiders reminded her too much of Vi-ra ni s poisonous
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