David Wells - Cursed Bones

“I agree,” Isabel said. “There’s no telling how far this patch of high ground goes.”

It wasn’t long before they were trudging through the muck. The ground was coated with a thick layer of mud and the vegetation was dripping from the heavy blanket of fog. Isabel found her feet growing heavier by the step, mud caking to her boots. Within a few hundred feet, they all needed to stop to scrape their boots clean.

“We haven’t seen much life,” Horace said. “I’m starting to wonder if the biggest danger in this place is just disorientation.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Hector said.

“Nor I,” Ayela said. “I’ve heard stories of terrible monsters living within the gloaming swamp. Things that occasionally wander into the jungle to hunt before disappearing back into the mist with their prey.”

Their progress was slower on land than it had been by raft. The ground was riddled with pools of stagnant water, all of it black and cold. Late in the day, they came to a place where their path was blocked by a channel of water about twenty feet across.

“We could backtrack and see if there’s another way,” Horace suggested.

Isabel shook her head. “We’re still being pursued. I doubt the Regency soldiers have our trail anymore, but the Sin’Rath probably do and I’d rather avoid them if at all possible.”

“That looks pretty deep,” Hector said.

Scales slipped into the water and vanished, reemerging on the far side after a minute or so.

“Any predators down there would have probably taken issue with the snake,” Horace said.

“Maybe,” Ayela said. “Predators come in many sizes.”

“I can get across without getting wet,” Hector said. “Once I’m on the other side, toss me a rope and then tie it around your waists so I can help you cross.”

He transformed into vapor, floating gently and slowly across the surface of the water.

Horace tossed him a coil of rope and he tied it off to a nearby tree. Isabel, Ayela, and Horace then tied the rope around themselves, leaving a space of five or six feet between them. Isabel took a long branch and cleaned off the smaller branches to make a measuring pole.

A few feet into the water, it was almost three feet deep. Several more feet and it was almost five feet deep. She discarded the pole, shaking her head.

“Looks like we’re going to get soaked,” she said, carefully stepping into the water and inhaling sharply at the cold.

A few steps from the bank, she was up to her chest in the chill water. A few feet more and she was swimming, aided by Hector who kept tension on the rope. After all three of them were in the water, and Isabel was about halfway across, she felt a sharp pain on her leg, then another on her arm and another on her back. She started to flounder, fear gripping her as something unseen attacked her from under the murky water.

Hector saw her begin to panic and started pulling them toward the bank with all his strength. Each in turn started trying to ward off some unknown menace, adding to the difficulty of pulling them across the channel.

Isabel reached the shore first, scrambling out of the water in a frenzy to escape. Ayela was next, just as panicked, followed by Horace. Each in turn collapsed into the mud within a few steps.

Isabel woke, sitting bolt upright and nearly screaming, looking about frantically and finding herself on top of a little patch of high ground just a few dozen feet from the water. She was wrapped in her blanket and shivering. Hector was sitting nearby, looking totally exhausted. Scales was wound around the limb of a nearby tree.

“What happened?” Isabel asked.

“Leeches,” Hector said, holding up a jar with one of the vile little creatures floating in swamp water. “I pulled several off each of you after I got you on solid ground. I’m pretty sure they knocked you out.”

Horace and Ayela were still unconscious but breathing steadily.

“How long?” Isabel asked, hunger suddenly rumbling in her belly.

“At least a day,” Hector said. “The only thing I know for sure is that at least one night has passed.”

“Dear Maker,” Isabel said. “No wonder nothing makes it out of this place alive.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Hector said. “Fortunately, it’s been quiet as a tomb since you lost consciousness.”

Isabel tipped her head back and closed her eyes for a few moments.

“Looks like late afternoon,” she said. “Get some rest, you look exhausted.”

Hector nodded. “I haven’t slept since I pulled you out.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Isabel said, getting to her feet and shivering anew. Her clothes were soaked and stuck to her skin, sapping her warmth.

She spent a few minutes walking around the camp in circles to get her blood flowing. When the penetrating cold didn’t subside, she decided that, while a fire was probably out of the question, she could still make some warmth. After gathering a pile of rocks, she cast her light-lance spell but deliberately reduced its power so she could heat the stones without burning them into vapor. It took a few castings, but she succeeded in heating the stones to a dull glowing red, producing much-needed heat.

Horace and Ayela both woke some time later, each shivering uncontrollably, each waking in a state of near panic.

“Come, get warm,” Isabel said to them. They didn’t hesitate to huddle around the glowing stones, soaking in the heat and trying to calm their chattering teeth.

“What did this?” Ayela asked, inspecting a welt on her forearm.

Isabel handed her the jar with the leech.

“What a terrible little creature,” she said. “But its venom may prove useful, if I can figure out how to extract it.”

“I thought you might find it interesting,” Isabel said. “Needless to say, we’ll be avoiding the water from now on. I don’t know how much of this swamp is infested with those things and I don’t want to find out.”

“That’s going to slow us down even more,” Horace said.

“I know, but those things will stop us permanently,” Isabel said. “Besides, our pursuers are bound to have the same problem, and there are a lot more of them to move across the water, so I’m hoping it’ll take them that much longer.”

They camped there for the night, drying their clothes and resting. Again, the swamp was nearly silent, save for the ubiquitous dripping of condensed fog on tree leaves. The place was cold and eerie, lifeless and desolate as if the light and the dark had fought a great battle here long ago and the darkness had won, slowly sapping the will to live from everything shrouded by the oppressive fog.

Isabel woke irritable and agitated. She nursed her anger for a moment before getting up, when Azugorath slammed into her. Isabel gasped, clenching her teeth and focusing her will in opposition to the invader, railing against her with all of the fury she could muster … and that was her mistake.

As Isabel loosed her rage, Azugorath slipped into her mind and seized control. Isabel saw herself get up and quietly draw her sword, eyeing Hector while he slept. Ayela was sitting watch. She cocked her head and frowned at Isabel’s odd behavior.

“Isabel, what’s wrong?”

At that moment, she broke Azugorath’s hold over her and regained control, deliriously happy to be sovereign over her own body again, but terrified at the implications of what just happened. Ayela was looking at her curiously and Isabel realized her sword was still drawn. She sheathed it quietly.

“I thought I heard something,” she said, sitting next to Ayela and yawning, worry racing around in her mind.

“I’ve been hearing things since we got here,” Ayela said. “Worse, I keep having this dream about an old hag in the swamp, beckoning to me, and then I wake up but I can never get back to sleep.”