David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Keep an eye on them for me?”

“Of course,” Alexander said and then he was gone and Isabel was again moving through the swamp, remaining vigilant but focusing on covering ground as quickly as possible. She knew they would probably double back when they lost Alexander in the mist. If they got back on the trail, they might reach the boathouse before she could build any kind of decent raft, and given the death leeches in the water, Isabel wasn’t willing to cut corners.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks, blinking in wonderment, remembering that one of the jars of powder in Hazel’s workshop was labeled concealment . She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was certainly worth a try. She found the jar of dust and carefully sprinkled a pinch on the ground behind her. The trail left by her friends’ passage as well as her own vanished for twenty feet. Smiling fiercely, she raced forward another twenty feet and sprinkled more powder, erasing any evidence of her passage for forty feet. Satisfied with the effect of her vial of magical powder, she forged ahead. Even experienced trackers would be thrown by the sudden disappearance of tracks that were so clearly evident before. At a minimum, they’d have to circle to reacquire her trail and that would take time.

It was late in the day when she reached the boathouse, which was really no more than a shack with a little dock jutting into the black and murky water of the swamp. The trail had become more circuitous as she neared the deeper water, winding around pools and bogs to stay on solid ground.

Alexander appeared when she arrived.

“They’re half a day ahead of you and moving steadily toward the mountain. The water stays pretty deep between here and there, so once you’re floating, you probably won’t set foot on solid ground until you get there. Those two men have picked up your trail again but I don’t think they’ll get here before dark.”

“Good,” Isabel said. “If I’m quick, I can have a raft in the water with an hour to spare.”

Isabel worked steadily, tearing down support beams and wall struts from the boathouse to use as the foundation of her raft and wall boards to use as the floor, tying them all together with rope until she had a simple raft about eight feet long and five feet wide. She cut a board into a paddle and then found two long, straight branches to serve as poles. It was nearly dark when she shoved off. As the mist and coming night swallowed the silhouette of the skeletal boathouse, she heard two men complaining that they’d followed the wrong trail. Then their voices were swallowed by the gloaming swamp as well.

She poled her way through the cypress trees until it was too dark to continue, then tied off to a tree and lay down for the night, calling Slyder to her for company and comfort. It was a fitful night. Isabel wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she was wary of what might be lurking in the swamp. While the dangers she’d faced since entering the mist weren’t what she’d expected at all, they were deadly in the extreme. Anything that upset her raft and tossed her into the water would be the end of her, so every little ripple brought her fully awake and alert. By morning she was exhausted and sore from trying to sleep on bare boards.

She sent Slyder into the treetops, above the mist, to get her bearings and then set out, pushing herself through the water with one of the long poles. The water was nearly four feet deep in most places, but occasionally much deeper. She worked steadily through the morning until her shoulders burned from exertion. Over ground, Hazel was much slower, but on the water in a boat, with Hector and Horace to row, they would be moving much faster than she could. Isabel had no expectation of gaining on them, but she was determined not to fall too far behind.

From the absence of waterfowl, she assumed that this part of the swamp was also infested with death leeches. It was a frightening thought: nothing but murky water in every direction and all of it hiding death. She shuddered, trying to focus on her goal, on what she intended to do once she arrived. That was much simpler. She was going to burn a hole through Hazel.

Alexander appeared near midday.

“This part of the swamp looks as devoid of life as the rest of it,” he said.

“This whole place is like a tomb,” she said. “I wonder where those leeches came from.”

“Probably Siavrax-what better way to keep unwanted guests away from your secret laboratory?”

“Do you think he would really kill a whole swamp just to keep people away?”

“He summoned the Succubus Queen,” Alexander said. “There’s no telling what he was capable of.”

“I wonder what I’m going to find on that mountain,” Isabel said.

“I had a look around and I’m afraid it’s not so empty of life,” Alexander said. “It’s mostly a jungle until you get up toward the top where the vegetation thins out.”

“Any predators I should know about?”

“A few animals: jaguars, snakes, boar, monkeys, and some type of wild dog that hunts in packs,” Alexander said. “But there’s also something else. I consulted the sovereigns about them before I came to you. They’re called vorash … another one of Siavrax’s creations.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Isabel said.

“No, they’re built almost like a man, two arms and two legs, except they have two broad, powerful, clawed fingers forward and one back on both their hands and their feet. The head is elongated like a dog’s, only bigger, and they have tentacles sprouting from each shoulder ending in clawed hands as well. They’re supposed to be terribly strong, very aggressive, and completely territorial. They can climb better than a monkey and prefer to attack from above, sometimes carrying prey into the trees and dropping them to their death.”

“Great,” Isabel said. “I think I’ll try to avoid them altogether.”

“Probably wise if you can,” Alexander said. “Malachi said Siavrax created them to use as soldiers in the jungle but they were less than obedient and not terribly smart.”

“Anything else?” Isabel asked.

“The fortress is mostly inside the mountain except for the ruins of the keep on the very top,” Alexander said. “It looks like there are a number of ways into the lower levels that are accessible from smaller structures in the jungle.”

“That sounds promising,” Isabel said. “The less time I can spend in the trees, the less time the vorash will have to hunt me.”

“From the course Hazel’s taking, it looks like she’s heading for one of these side entrances.”

“Almost like she knows where she’s going,” Isabel said.

Alexander nodded.

“She was playing us all along,” Isabel said. “I wish I had time to read more of her journal.”

“Maybe when you stop for the night,” Alexander said. “I’ll be back when I know more.”

Isabel moved through the swamp, damp from mist and sweat, her arms and shoulders burning, but she pushed, determined to cover the distance quickly. At dark she tied off to a tree and tried to read some of Hazel’s journal, but it was like reading one side of a conversation. Isabel wondered how much of that conversation had taken place in Hazel’s mind and how much actually made it onto the page.

From what she could gather, Hazel needed a woman of her lineage to complete the transference, whatever that was, and she was very excited to have finally brought Ayela to her. Apparently, she’d been trying to influence the Princess of Karth for some time, using a dream-whisper spell and had all but given up. When Ayela arrived, Hazel began making preparations for the transference spell but could only complete it in the mountain.

She didn’t say why.