by Lee Magnus
“What happens when I get wet?”
“That’s when the boggers worm burrows into your skin. Otherwise, don’t take the medicine. It’ll make you violently nauseous.”
“Ok. Stay dry and don’t take the medicine. Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah, take these waders. They’ll keep you dry in water crossings. You’ll be plenty hot, but it’ll be better than the boggers. And this knife. You may need it for a variety of things,” he looked at him solemnly, “including protection.”
Karl handed Trey a smooth black handled knife with an eight-inch steel blade.”
“Now that’s a knife!” Trey said with excitement. “What’s this intricately carved symbol in the handle mean?”
“It’s my family crest. You bring this back to me. It was given to me by my father.”
“I’ll take good care of it.”
“I know you will. You must be off now if you want to make it by sundown. You’ll take Dolly. The swamp is a few hours ride east of here. Let her loose when you get to the entrance of the swamp. She’ll find her way back. You don’t want to be in the open at night. While the swamp isn’t the coziest place, at least you’ll have some shelter and security from the night.”
Karl led him out the back again to the stable on the other side of the shed. It smelled of manure and wood shavings.
“This is Dolly. I’ve had her many years. Can’t ride anymore of course, but she can still run like the wind.”
“She’s beautiful,” Trey said running his hand down her painted brown and white muscled shoulder. “Cierden also said to not be out after dark. Why?”
“At night, a variety of mostly mischievous creatures roam freely, such as imps, but some are very dangerous like the mountain troll I mentioned earlier. We’ve had many raids by a group of dangerous lizard-like creatures. Most of the cities are well defended against them now but you aren’t safe out there. You know how to saddle a horse?”
“Yeah. I spent a lot of time on a horse named Earl at summer camp last year.”
“What’s summer camp,” Karl asked inquisitively.
“It’s a place where kids go to learn stuff schools don’t teach us, but mainly for parents to send us while they work.” Refocusing on the mission he said, “How’s the swamp safe at night? Isn’t it still outside?” Trey said placing the pad and saddle on Dolly.
“It isn’t safe. The swamp has its own inhabitants that are there all the time. The bigger ones will generally avoid you. However, if you were to sneak up on a swamp bear or god forbid a wollybrougher, you’ll have to use the knife and lots of prayer.”
Trey shuttered at the thought of seeing another Wollybrougher.
“Anything else?”
“No. That’s all I can tell you. You’ll have to be smart and careful. Move slowly while in the swamp but don’t stay in one place for very long. Know you’ll be watched the whole time you’re there. Don’t give anything any reason to approach you.”
“Got it.”
“Take care, Trey. I hope you succeed where I failed. I truly hope to see you again.”
“Me too Mr. Ropping. Thank you for helping.”
“You’re welcome. Now don’t forget my knife!”
Trey chuckled, “Sure thing.”
Trey mounted Dolly, then trotted down a back alley before entering the street Porter left him. He looked to his left noticing Porter’s wagon was replaced with several well-dressed men with cigars amid a wispy haze. He reined Dolly to the right then lightly prodded her eastward.
The city gave way to tightly organized communities set up in grids on the outskirts. A large pasture held several horses milling around a bale of hay. He passed a large central building, possibly a school, made of wood and donned a bell tower, however, there were no children to be seen.
Trey passed through a large gate guarded by two men with long rifles as he left Hoppston. Young children played in the grass adjacent to the tall stone wall that served as protection in the night. The previously cloudy sky gave way to a mid-day sun that sweltered overhead. Trey wished he’d brought a hat. He rode out of the city perimeter facing a dry flat landscape spotted with low trees and bushes.
Trey rode for an hour.
Cl-clop, cl-clop, cl-clop sounded Dolly’s hooves on the hard road.
Cl-clop, Cl-clop, Cl-clop.
Side to side Trey wobbled in the saddle. His eyes became heavy as weariness set in.
The hooves droned on.
Cl-clop, Cl-clop, Cl-clop.
He closed his eyes for just for a second, nearly falling off when Dolly lurched to avoid something in the road only to continue the monotonous pace.
Cl-clop, Cl-clop, Cl-clop.
With beads of sweat dancing down his face, Trey closed his eyes again, then slumped easily onto the horn.
He woke to find himself, surprisingly, still on the horse’s back. Dolly lazily munched on grass several yards off the road. The sun sat well behind him. He looked around, finding the dark swamp several miles ahead.
“I have to get going. I’m running out of daylight. How long have I been out? I must be more exhausted than I thought.”
He set his head down on the back of his hands which were resting on the saddle horn. Looking at the ground he became confused at what he saw. He trained his focus on a tiny creature standing no more than four inches tall next to the horse’s front left hoof. It was staring up at him with wide yellow eyes. It was blue with two black stripes on its back. Its skin was smooth and snake-like scaly. Its orange lips opened into a wicked grin displaying a row of pointy teeth. It jumped onto the horse, then violently bit its leg.
Dolly reared back, neighing in alarm. She bolted away from the road, unaware of what was attacking her. Trey’s feet weren’t in the stirrups as he grasped the saddle horn tightly trying to not fall off. Flopping all over the saddle he saw the creature rapidly climbing the horse’s pumping leg with its eyes still focused on Trey’s – biting several times as it approached. Dolly bucked with each nip nearly flinging Trey off each time.
Trey flailed an arm, trying to knock it off. It jumped, ducked and dodged each defensive attack. It leaped onto Trey’s back, then began biting at the nape of his neck. Trey arched, rolled out of the saddle, sideswiped a bush, then landed hard on the ground. He slid to a stop, unable to catch his breath. As Trey tried to breath the miniscule creature jumped onto his paralyzed chest, then blew a raspberry inches from his face – tiny slobber pelted his cheeks.
It jumped off joining two others rummaging through his bag. Trey tried but couldn’t muster the breath to make a sound. A few seconds later they jumped out with his food, the knife Karl’s dad gave him and the pouch with the key.
“No! Come back here!” Trey screamed.
He painfully got to his feet, then ran after them. They disappeared down a narrow hole under a large rock seconds before he caught up. He could hear giggling for several more seconds. He dug at the dirt, but it was too hard, and the rock was too heavy to lift. He flopped down onto the ground in exasperation.
A rustling emerged from under the rock. Trey peered into the hole to find two soft green eyes glowing in the darkness. The remorseful face appeared only briefly before a package blocked the view. Trey’s confused look didn’t stop him from reaching in to pull out the remainder of the bread muffins Karl gave him. The imp was gone when the package was clear of the hole.
“Well, Trey,” he said aloud as he held the package of muffins. “What else can you get yourself into?” He looked distantly and continued, “I have to get out of here.” He looked around and said, “Where’s Dolly?”
The horse was nowhere in sight.
“She’s probably halfway back to Karl’s by now. Dang-it!” he said stomping the ground.
He walked back to his pack, gathered the remainder of his things, then looked closely toward the scraggly trees ahead in the distance.
“It’s only about five miles.”
He began jogging.
“If I continue at this pace, I
should be there before it gets too dark.”
He regulated his breathing and timed his steps properly.
Tough runs don’t last, tough runners do, Trey could hear his track teacher say.
The theme song to Rocky began to repeat in his head. Da. Da Du Da. Da Du Da. Da Du Duuuuu. He ran a mile with no problem. After mile two his breathing was heavy. The sun began to fade at mile three bringing on a sense of urgency. Filled with anxiety, Trey quickened his pace.
When the sun was completely below the horizon, Trey became aware of something quickly approaching from the right. Making sharp glances he was unable to make out the shape in the dim light.
At this pace it’ll intercept me before the entrance. I’m only about a mile out. I can make it.
He began sprinting. His heart raced; his legs burned. He looked back – the dark shape still in hot pursuit.
It’s so much closer now! I’ll never make it!
He ran harder. Pumping his arms, stretching out his legs, he ran faster than ever before.
“Grip and pull, Trey! Grip and Pull!” he yelled to himself.
He could now hear the foot falls of the beast behind him. A growl bellowed. Searing pain engulfed his legs. He felt as if a knife was in his side. He continued to run as hard as he could. He could hear the breath of the animal.
“All most there! All most there! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” he yelled the final yards.
A painful blow to his back sent him tumbling to the hard ground. He rolled into a ball and closed his eyes to protect himself from the impending attack.
A moment passed, nothing happened. He felt it near his head. Hot sticky breath permeated his nostrils. It sniffed him several times before Trey opened his eyes to find a massive wollybrougher with a shaggy dull burgundy coat pacing next to him. It easily had two-hundred pounds on Cedric and was leaner. It approached coming eye to eye with Trey. Thick drool slopped from slightly parted lips exposing jagged teeth. It sniffed, then blew balls of thick snot onto Treys face. Then again. Trey dared not wipe away the slimy goo. It let out a loud roar as if it would at any moment have a temper tantrum. It stomped furiously, sniffed again at Trey’s neck then deliberately turned toward the swamp in frustration.
Trey watched it join six more near the edge of the tree line. The wollybrougher touched noses with each of the others. They individually regarded Trey before disappearing into the swamp.
“Oh my God!” Trey yelled laying on the ground. “Coming here was such a mistake! I don’t even know what I’m looking for or if it’s in there. This is the stupidest thing I have ever done.”
He sat up rubbing his aching quads.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take, he thought to himself. How will I get home?
“Will I ever see mom again? Uuugggg,” he sounded, struggling to stand. He limped the remaining distance to the entrance of the swamp.
The Grey Swamp
Tall dark trees shadowed overhead. Biting cold etched uncomfortably into his skin. The musky smell of aged compost grew as he progressed along an overgrown path. Thick air layered him with dripping moisture. He put on the jacket, then donned the hood.
Maybe I should stop for the night? But the trail is clear for now and I should probably move a little further. Hopefully, I can find a place to rest soon. It sure is creepy here. I wonder if it’s any better during the day.
He could only see a few feet in front of him while fearfully looking left and right expecting a wollybrougher or something worse to leap out at any moment.
He tripped on a protruding root sending him painfully to the ground. He laid still for a moment trying to control dreadful thoughts as something rustled in the bushes ahead.
Comfortable that whatever ahead was gone, he picked himself up, rubbed his right arm then slowly continued forward.
He swiftly turned toward the sound of a creature leaping away through the tree branches above just as something grabbed him by the hood. He instinctively pulled away as he struggled with its grasp. He grabbed at a thin scaly arm with numerous rigid fingers. It snapped as he turned his shoulder into the lanky appendage. He then started laughing out loud – then fell to a knee and cried as the tree branch slipped from his grip.
“I’m never getting out of here,” he sobbed.
He looked up and around through watery eyes. He then proceeded off the path toward an overturned tree.
A bird, Trey believed, shrieked in the distance. He removed the folded tarp and draped it over the tilted tree base. He found comfort in that it camouflaged the shelter well. He crawled inside, spread a portion of the tarp on the ground then curled up in total darkness.
He shivered as the adrenalin wore off. A bitter cold surrounded aching limbs – it seeped into his bones. Uncontrollable chattering teeth and restless arms and legs added to the misery. He laid on the cold ground curled on his side and closed his eyes, trying to force an unconscious state.
A branch snapped outside the makeshift tent bringing Trey back to full alert. His heart leaped. His eyes groped for light. He was unable to make out any shapes. Completely blinded by darkness, he imagined monstrous creatures lurking about, planning their attack on the helpless misled boy lost in a damp swamp chasing mythical items.
Rustling in nearby bushes put him on edge. A strange sound echoed through the night.
Chirrup, Chirrup. Chirrup, Chirrup.
He whispered, “Don’t move, Trey. Don’t make any noise. Don’t give anything a reason to approach.” His teeth clacked like a firecracker in his brain.
The urge to shift was agonizing. His legs and feet wailed for repositioning. He dosed for what seemed like seconds before waking to a strong breeze shaking the tarp.
He risked using a match to light a tea candle. The diminutive warmth was soothing but comfort never again came calling in the night.
Trey woke cold and shivering in total darkness. His moral dropped. He thought it was morning. He dreaded the thought of spending another minute in the tarp – frightened of what might happen.
“I hate this!” he shrieked quietly. “I must get moving. I can’t waste time, nor can I stay in one place for long. I’ll have to make my way in the dark.”
He emerged from the tarp amid darkness. Faint light penetrated the forest which refreshed his soul. He carefully folded and placed the tarp in the pack, found the path, then walked for nearly an hour watching vigilantly for signs of danger. He finally took a break on a boulder to enjoy the warmth of a rising sun.
Soothing rays of light caressed his face. The pungent swamp odor now seemed to be laced with the sweet scent of cinnamon. He breathed in big then slowly released.
“I have to figure out where I am before I continue.”
He produced the map, then began studying.
“I came in this way, then walked probably two miles along this path. I shouldn’t be too far from this fork. The fastest way to the pond would be to continue straight ahead. Karl was certain it was there. Maybe he just missed something.”
While he sat deciding on a direction, a mantis crawled onto his leg. Trey focused his attention on the slow-moving insect as it crept onto the map resting on his lap. Pulling from the hypnotic state, he shooed the mantis away with his hand watching it fly a graceful arc.
That was pretty cool, he thought. The resulting smile floated optimism throughout his outlook on the dire situation.
He replaced the map in the pack, took another moment to enjoy the last nut bar then continued the perilous expedition.
He noticed a squirrel-like animal sitting on a limb paying him an inordinate amount of attention as he passed below. “Hey little squirrel,” he said as if speaking to an infant. It darted away as if Trey threw something at it.
Past a grassy fork, the landscape became less forested. Pockets of shallow water dotted the trail. He walked a while longer on ground that squished like a damp sponge. Colorful red and yellow mushrooms and other fungi adorned the narrow path.
His mind wandered during the hike. The m
id-morning swamp became incredibly humid. The previous night’s coldness had long expired. He passed tall reedy plants with bulbous drab blooms. He brushed one of them with a hand releasing a vibrant orange dust. He waved the surrounding cloud away then continued on the trail.
His eyes burned lightly. He rubbed them as he began thinking of his mom. He wished he could see her. He hoped she was safe.
What if mom’s not safe? The thought ate at him. “What if mom’s not safe? What if Lyza was lying? What if Kathy isn’t as tough as I was led to believe?“
He continued walking at an increasingly faster pace on the verge of hyperventilation. His progressively pessimistic mind spun around worries he had no ability to impact.
“What about Marcus?” he said aloud. “He’s not safe without me to protect him!” He picked up his stride. “And the soccer team? What if coach kicks me off for not showing up for practice? How will I get out of here? I’m stuck in this stupid swamp! I have to get out!” he screamed.
Trey ran. He dashed past a tree. “I have to get back to Mom and Marcus!”
He mindlessly left the trail as he ripped through tall plants releasing clouds of orange dust.
“I’m going to die if I don’t get out of here!” he screamed. “I’m going to die!” he yelled as he bolted through thick brush. Panic over came him. His mind was lost to the deathly poison of the cardis flower. He dropped his pack, he crossed a stream, he hurdled a boulder – then fell. In Trey’s madness, he failed to notice the steep slope leading into a valley below.
He tumbled down. His body bashed end over end against rocks and scrubby brush. He skidded and rolled. He lost consciousness against a stump before finally resting violently against a large tree.
He laid there defenseless and nearly lifeless in an unknown valley in an inhospitable swamp consumed in an unnatural poison.
When he came to, his head throbbed. His left leg spiked with pain. Several places on his body stung with fading images of scrapes and minor lacerations rapidly healing from the fairy magic.
“Thank you Coméllula,” he said out loud as if she were flying next to him. “What happened? How’d I get here?” The panic from the flower was gone but replaced with another. “Where am I?” he said as he viewed the underside of a scraggly tree canopy.
