Chapter 369: The Dangers of Crymlyn Swamp

The party floated from the sky, sinking beneath naked tree branches to stop above the frigid swamp water.

Baelin looked at Drestra. “There are no toxic gases here.”

“Not in this part of the swamp,” the Sage said.

“Excellent. I shall cancel your Orbs of Air. We should know what the area smells like before continuing further: swamps often have built up gases that can be quite explosive. So, it’s always best to have a quick whiff of the air, see if we have anything to be concerned about.”

With a wave of his hand, he cancelled the spell, and a foul smell reached Alex’s nostrils: like rotting vegetables and drying fish. Nearby, he spied a silver form breaching the water, quickly followed by a quiet splash: a small fish snapped a bug off the water’s surface.

‘Not many insects around,’ Alex thought. ‘Good thing we’re here so late in the year, or we’d be a feast for mosqui—”

Splash!

Alex, the Heroes and Baelin whirled.

Deep in the trees to the east—a splash much louder than a small fish hitting the water startled them. A bird’s panicked cry was abruptly cut off.

Another splash, then…silence followed.

“What’n blazes was that?” Cedric asked.

“Could be any number of things. Some of the swamp’s predators are very active this time of year,” Drestra said calmly. “They fatten themselves in the fall then swim down to their caves for the winter. It’s almost time for them to go into hibernation.”

“Charmin’,” Cedric said, his morphic weapon flowing off his arm and transforming into a spear. Now he was ready for whatever came, whether fish or predator.

‘Watch out for anything swimming near us,’ Alex directed Claygon. He drew a sleeping potion and a booby-trapped mana soothing potion from his bag. ‘If anything jumps at us, squash it.’

The golem’s head began to turn, watching the landscape in all directions.

Hart drew his bow and nocked an arrow. “What’re the odds of these predators attacking an armed party?”

“Low,” Drestra said. “They rarely attack my people when we’re out on the water. Unless they’re very, very hungry.”

“Right,” Alex said. “Of course this’ll be the day they’ll be starving.”

“Unfortunately for them, any attack they attempt will only result in their own deaths,” Baelin said, conjuring a swarm of Wizard’s Eyes. He sent them out in all directions, his gaze unfocusing for an instant. “Hm, no immediate threats in the area. Excellent.”

He turned to Alex and the other Heroes. “Stay here for a moment will you? Remember that you are still invisible, but endeavour not to make too much noise. I shall return momentarily. Alex, will you hold this for a moment?”

Just as he had when he teleported away earlier, he gave the dungeon core over to Alex, then disappeared.

Four Heroes and Claygon floated quietly, watching the swamp around them.

“So this is your home, eh, Drestra?” Alex whispered.

“I was born here,” the Sage said quietly. “I’d only left the Swamp a handful of times before I was marked. This was my world for more than seventeen years.”

“How did you deal with the smell?” Hart’s face soured.

She shot him an annoyed look “I don’t want to hear anything about how my home smells from you.”

“What?” Hart asked.

Drestra looked at Alex. “This Champion here…it took Cedric and me weeks to convince him to bathe regularly. For a while, he reeked worse than a dungeon full of dead Ravener-spawn.”

“Hey, we’re out on a war campaign. A bit of a half-wash chases the bugs away, and doesn’t waste time like some luxurious bath would,” Hart said defensively.

“Your stink nearly chased me away,” Cedric grunted.

Alex chuckled quietly, not particularly interested in commenting. Calling on the Mark, he read the Heroes’ body language; tension lay in all three of them. But, now they seemed more relaxed around each other than before; though their tension spiked each time their eyes fell on the dungeon core slung over Alex’s shoulder.

It looked like the gap was closing between the three Heroes: maybe sharing the secret of the dungeon core had brought them closer, at least subconsciously.

‘Hopefully, it keeps closing,’ Alex thought. ‘No matter what we find out.’

Minutes later, Baelin was back with a large, gracefully-shaped boat with a figurehead carved in the image of a hydra’s nine snarling heads. The vessel was long—long enough to carry a party three times their size—and broad enough for Claygon to fit in with ease.

With a whispered word, the chancellor lowered the boat into the water and gestured for everyone to get in. “This comes from my personal collection, and it is indeed a favourite,” he smiled fondly at the watercraft. “Hop in. Alex, I will take the core back. Oh, and do not worry about Claygon: the boat’s enchantments ensure that it can carry more than our combined weight.”

Alex handed him the dungeon core, then floated into the boat, watching Claygon. But he had nothing to worry about, even when Claygon settled in the middle of the vessel, it never sank below the waterline.

The enchantments Baelin had on it were powerful ones.

Hart and Cedric sat down next, rocking back and forth, testing its stability; they were soon nodding in satisfaction. Drestra was looking about, taking in every inch of it.

“Where are the oars?” she asked, frowning in curiosity.

“Our manner of travel will not require oars,” Baelin said, pointing ahead. “That way to your village, I take it?”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s curving paths and forks in the waterways, but I can guide you through them.”

“Excellent.”

The ancient wizard snapped his fingers.

“Holy sh—” Alex swore as the boat suddenly lurched forward under its own power.

Picking up speed, it glided through the marsh, kicking up mud and slushy water in its wake. But, considering how fast it was moving, it travelled with an eerie silence.

Alex wanted one, and no doubt so did the other Heroes.

“Prepare for the cancellation of your invisibility spells,” Baelin said. “As Drestra said earlier, it’s better not to alarm her compatriots by suddenly appearing out of nowhere. We want to have a pleasant chat with them, not give them the impression that we are thieves or spies.”

“Great,” Hart said. “Now any of these nasty predators will see us coming.”

“Trust me, as long as Baelin’s here, we have nothing to worry about,” Alex said.

“You flatter me, but I shan’t be raising your grades over mere words, Alex!” The chancellor waved a hand and their bodies shimmered, translucence fading to reveal them.

Everyone tensed, more cautious.

“Keep watching for anything nasty,” Alex told his golem.

Claygon’s head swivelled in all directions as he balanced in the middle of the boat.

“You’re all too nervous,” Drestra said. “At the speed we’re going, we’ll reach my village in minutes. And as I said, creatures in the swamp rarely attack people. We’re fine.”

And, indeed, her words were true…

…for approximately sixty seconds.

A minute of gliding through the swamp—with the Sage guiding the chancellor through the waterways’ branching paths—saw Baelin suddenly sit bolt upright and snap a hand out to their right.

With a single word of power, he shot a crackling sky-blue beam through the air, sending it racing above the water, striking what seemed to be empty air about a hundred and fifty feet away.

Crack!

A monstrous scream ripped the air, suddenly replaced by the sound of crackling. Rapidly freezing ice spread, coating an invisible creature swimming toward them, flash freezing it like an ice sculpture floating in the murky water.

“By the Traveller!” Alex swore. “What in all the hells is that?”

The creature’s shape was mostly humanoid and probably ten feet tall, with a thick tail equally as long as the rest of its body. Hooked talons extended from fingers on massive hands, and its arms were so long, they must have scraped the ground when it walked.

“What in the—” Drestra leaned over the side of the boat, her reptilian eyes squinting at the creature. “I think that’s an invisible marauder.”

“A what now?” Alex asked.

He didn’t remember mention of any such creature in the Thameish bestiaries.

“They’re predators from deep within the swamp,” she said. “Nasty things, and with a sadistic streak: they’re smart enough to use tools, and cruel enough to hunt not only for meat, but for sport. They can also turn invisible naturally.”

“Well, it is now an invisible corpse,” Baelin said matter of factly. “Against my Wizard’s Eyes, that level of invisibility—no matter how natural—would not serve it.”

The boat turned, silently gliding toward the frozen form.

The nearer they went, the more the monster’s invisibility shimmered away; until only a slight translucence remained. When Baelin shot it, they must have been close enough for him to catch enough of its body with his true seeing spell, cancelling most of its ability to remain hidden.

It wasn’t what anyone but another invisible marauder would call attractive: green scales covered most of its body except for its back and tail. They were sheathed in a bone-like carapace. Its face had a human-like quality for the better part, but its mouth was that of a giant crab.

He whistled at its claws: they looked sharp enough to tear through petrified wood like paper.

“This…something’s wrong,” Drestra said, as they pulled alongside the frozen body. “Invisible marauders stay much deeper in the swamp. They have a fear of mortals, and my kin—the ones we’re looking for—cull their population as much as they need to.”

She gave Baelin a worried look.

“We need to get to the village.”

“Of course,” he said, conjuring a rope which tied itself around the monster. “I think we should bring this creature with us to show to your people. If they aren’t already aware of this…abnormality, then we can show them.”

“I’m glad you saw it,” Drestra said.

The boat took off again at speed, everyone watched the trees and water. Baelin recast Orbs of Air over their heads in case something managed to get close enough to drag one, or all of them beneath the murky surface.

Near Drestra’s village, the trees grew thinner and signs of civilization abundant: ropes had been attached to tree trunks as mooring posts; curious, arcane glyphs were scratched into tree bark, and effigies hung from leafless branches high above. Alex stared at the effigies: they were figures of people made of sticks and straw woven together, then painted red.

They reminded him of diagrams he’d seen in blood magic books.

“Those weren’t there when I was here last,” Drestra said softly, pointing at the effigies. “They warn of dangerous areas that should be avoided or, at the very least, passed through cautiously. I wonder why they’re so close to the village?”

“I guess we’ll be finding out soon enough,” Alex said to the Sage, his grip tightening on his potions while his eyes scanned for more attackers.

But the next sign of life they encountered wasn’t a monster.

About a hundred and twenty feet ahead, five people shimmered into being, their forms having the same translucence as a spell of true seeing. They were crouched in what must have been a sentry post.

Each was pale, clad in rough, homespun clothing and were decorated in arcane symbols drawn in red pigment. They held bows nocked with arrows that glowed with power.

“Ah, the sentries!” Drestra cried, jumping to her feet.

She called to them in a language Alex had never heard before—one with complex syllables and tones that ran from guttural, to musical—and caught the sentries’ attention. They looked down at her in surprise.

“I come with the Champion and Chosen,” Drestra said in the common tongue. “And with other friends too. Well met, Angharad!”

“Well met, Drestra,” a sentry called back in a deep voice. He was young and not particularly tall, but he was broad of both shoulder, and belly. “It’s been too long!”

The sentries spoke quick incantations and shimmered out of invisibility while Angharad stepped forward. “Your timing’s either good or terrible: you’ve come in dark days.”

“What’s happened?” she asked as the boat glided beneath the sentry post. She pointed to the invisible marauder tied to the back of the boat. “That thing was within a horn’s blow’s distance from the village. What is going on? Are our kin having trouble containing them?”

Angharad grimaced. “A lot has happened since you left, Drestra. And as for our kin? We lost contact with them about two months ago. You’d better come into the village. We have a lot to tell you.”