Richard Tuttle - Star of Sakova

“Perhaps we should camp here until dawn,” Syman suggested.

Lyra thought he was probably thinking about the bottomless pits in the ground that might await them on the journey across the prairie. At night they would not be able to see where the horses were stepping.

“We are too close to Gatong,” Antello declared. “We must cross as much of this prairie as we can before dawn. Anyone who looks out across this in the daylight will be able to see for leagues and we would be visible.”

“You are right,” Syman agreed. “I just don’t like riding when I cannot see where I am going.”

“Never fear,” Antello grinned. “I am leading and if I disappear down a hole, you have my permission to stop for the night.”

“Very funny,” Syman shot back, “but it wouldn’t be the first time I stopped you from doing something foolish. Well, get moving. Get out there and find that hole so I can get some sleep.”

Lyra smiled at their banter and realized that only true friends could be so wicked with each other. Lyra gazed at the stars as Antello started them moving once more. The sky seemed so large without buildings or trees blocking the view. The expanse of the night sky made her feel small and insignificant. Oddly, the thought had a pacifying effect on her, as if her troubles were really nothing big at all. Lyra looked north and south and could see the horizons in all direction but west, from which they had come.

Visibility at ground level was poor as the moon had not risen yet, but Lyra knew they were traveling through a field of wild watula. The scent was powerful and pleasant. Lyra struggled to free her mind of the Academy, the invaders, and where they were going. She gave herself over to the night sky and the watula scent and found it calming. After a while, she detected the sound of crickets chirping and it grew steadily louder as they proceeded eastward. The moon made its appearance, peeking over the horizon at first, and then growing into a huge ball of soft light that bathed the watula stalks in a golden glow. After a while, the sound of the crickets grew loud and the ground turned soft. The tall stalks of watula gave way to a short stubby grass with little thickets of bush scattered about. She heard Antello shout a curse as his horse stumbled into a hole. It was the first sound any of them had made since leaving the forest.

“I think we are heading into a swamp,” Antello called.

“If you want to deviate from our course,” offered Syman, “I would suggest more southward. The other coast comes in closer to the south according to the map.”

“I hate to waste the time on a detour,” Antello said, “but I do not like swamps either. I will try going a little farther south.”

Going south for a while did not help. They steadily proceeded farther into the swamp. The grass was mostly under water and huge twisted trees dotted the landscape intermingled with tall reed patches. Mosquitoes buzzed the small party and the slaps aimed at the tiny insects sounded as loud as canon shot in the still night. Muffled curses mixed with the slaps and the sloshing of the water as Antello searched for a way out of the swamp. The moon’s light was bright now, but there was only swamp visible in every direction. Occasionally one of the horses would stumble into a deeper hole and Lyra’s heart beat rapidly until she was sure that it was not one of those bottomless holes she had heard about.

Antello was soaked to the skin from finding those holes by going first. Eventually, Syman had pity and took the lead. Soon he was equally wet and cursing louder than Antello had. Time dragged on and Lyra knew they were not making much headway, and yet there was no place to camp for the night. They might be able to sleep in one of the huge trees, but she would not let the horses stand in swamp water through the night. Syman started weaving from tree to tree in hopes that the ground was firmer where the trees grew. The water level in the swamp appeared to be getting deeper and Lyra thought about suggesting that they all turn around and go back. Syman must have read her mind because at the next tree he halted.

“This is not working,” Syman sighed. “We seem to be getting deeper into the swamp and I see no end to it. I am going to climb this tree and see if I can find some dry ground.”

Lyra looked up into the tree and screamed. Not three feet over their heads was the largest snake Lyra had ever seen. Its body was as round as her thigh and seemed to go on forever. It looked down at her and its tongue lashed out in a hiss. Lyra screamed again and her horse sensed her fright and pranced about. Lyra lost her balance and fell off the skittish horse into the muck of the swamp. Syman scrambled to lift Lyra while Antello restrained her horse.

Lyra was soaked and mud covered as Syman pulled her to her feet. When she went to scrap off the mud, she screamed again. Her hands were covered with leeches and Syman began plucking them off her face.

“Turn around,” Lyra screamed as she began tearing off her clothes.

Antello secured the three horses and kept an eye on the snake, which was curiously watching the drama unfold below. Syman stared at Antello as he hummed a tune and Lyra was cursing as she frantically ripped leeches from her body and threw them through the air.

“Check my back,” Lyra pleaded.

Syman turned and started pulling off the leeches that Lyra couldn’t reach, still humming his little tune. Antello couldn’t hold his amusement in check any longer and doubled over with laughter.

Syman stopped humming and announced, “They are all gone now. I will turn my back again.”

“You had better,” growled Lyra as she dressed after checking each garment for leeches.

After she finished dressing she turned to find that Syman had moved over to where Antello was watching the snake. Antello was fighting to keep a straight face and Lyra was fuming.

“And what was so funny about being covered with leeches?” she screamed.

“I am sorry, Lyra,” apologized Antello while trying to keep the grin off his face. “It was the tune Syman was humming, not your discomfort.”

“What was the tune?” Lyra quizzed in a slightly calmer tone.

“It is an old sailor ditty about a wench who gets talked into bathing naked in the fountain in the Town Square for her boyfriend, only to find that her boyfriend has invited the whole tavern to watch,” explained Antello. “I just couldn’t hold it in.”

“I’ve a good mind to throw both of you scoundrels into that swamp water and watch you get your leeches off,” laughed Lyra as she saw the humor in her predicament. “In any event, I want to get out of this swamp now, but I suggest we find a different tree for Syman to climb.”

Lyra felt better after laughing, but she really wanted to bathe in some clean water. They mounted their horses and Syman headed for the next large tree. Syman scampered up the snakeless tree and peered in each direction. In minutes he was back down and astride his horse.

“I think I see an end to it,” he exclaimed. “A little farther south the land rises somewhat. It must be drier there.”

Syman led the way and within an hour the party had left the swamp for a gradually rising slope of dry grass. They found a copse of sevemor trees with a stream running through it, which probably fed the swamp. After the horses were secured, each of them headed for the stream to rinse the muck and swamp water off of their bodies and their clothes. Lyra offered to dry their clothes with her magic and they grabbed a bite to eat before creeping under their blankets.

The sun was already up when Lyra awoke and she shook Syman and Antello awake. Antello lead the horses to the stream, while Syman climbed a tree to check out the landscape. Lyra laid out breakfast for everyone and had started to eat when Syman dropped out of the tree. Antello returned with the horses almost at the same time and they both tore into their food hungrily.