My time sleeping on a bed in West Fork hadn’t softened me. I had spent enough nights on the ground since leaving Aeris that the hard, unyielding surface no longer affected my sleep. The day’s travels had left me exhausted and I drifted off almost immediately. Since I hadn’t been assigned watch duties - one of the perks of being a Summoner - I slept the whole night through, uninterrupted by nightmares or memories. Such a span of peace was unusual for me. When I woke, the rest of the party was getting ready to travel. The fire had been stamped out and pouches and packs were being re-tied.
Day two of the journey had us turn from a westerly course to one south of west. Gabriel’s intention was for us to skirt The Rank Marsh’s southern boundaries then swing back to the north after we were past it. The most direct route to our goal - following the river to the pass into The Southern Peaks mountain range - would have taken us through the heart of the swamp, something Gabriel wasn’t willing to chance.
“There’s two issues with that place, both of which have to be considered. The first is the lack of firm, safe ground. It’s a quagmire with plenty of places to trap the legs and pull you under. Travelers have been lost in The Rank Marsh because they stepped in the wrong place and there ain’t no road or path to mark where the safe ground is. Some time back, an expedition went into The Rank to blaze a trail. Ain’t no one heard from them since.
“Then there are the rumors of a thing that lives in the bogs. At one time, I might have dismissed those as fantasies but, after what I’ve seen in the past weeks... Anything that lives in The Rank Marsh ain’t human and, at least based on the legends and tales, the swamp-creature dines on more than just a man’s flesh. For obvious reasons, that ain’t something we’d like to meet so, whether it exists in reality or just in stories, it’s better to stay away and not find out than get into a situation where we wish we didn’t know the truth.”
As far as I was concerned, those were ample reasons to avoid The Rank Marsh, even if it added (as Gabriel estimated) two days to our trip. As urgent as circumstances were, there were some chances not worth taking. Reavers weren’t the only dangers in the wilderness.
“What do you think of him?” asked Samell later in the morning, referring to Willem. He and I were in the rear of our column with Gabriel and Willem leading the way, hacking and slashing their way through the thick, tall grasses. Stepan was paired with Ramila in the second row with Alyssa and Esme immediately in front of us.
“I feel more confident with him in our party but I wonder why Marluk didn’t simply send him along. The things we don’t know concern me. It may be none of my business and it may not be relevant to our mission but that’s not an assumption I feel comfortable making.”
“I understand. But it’s good to have a seasoned traveler and fighter. I think things might have been different on the road to NewTown if Ramila and Willem had been with us when we encountered the air reaver. That battle exposed us as…not being adequate to be your defenders. Those two may make up for what the rest of us lack.” For the first time, I realized how much the fight with the air reaver had shaken his confidence. I had been so absorbed with my own failings during the combat that I hadn’t had time to consider my companions’ reactions. Before the battle, they had believed they could protect me. Now they knew differently.
“I won’t deny that Ramila and Willem will be helpful in a fight if it comes to that. But there’s a lot more to what we’re doing than swordplay. I need people around me I can trust. Without you and the others from Aeris, I would have been alone and lost. I don’t know this world, its customs, its geography… By myself, I wouldn’t have beaten the air reaver. Don’t underestimate your contribution. I need you, Samell. All of you from Aeris who gave up your futures to travel with me, but you most of all.” I hadn’t meant to get that personal but the words spilled out and I couldn’t take them back. Surely by now he knew how much I relied on him, how much I had relied on him since the day he and Esme saved me from the river.
Samell appeared thunderstruck by the admission. “Thank you. I… that means a lot to me.”
Then, unbidden and unwanted, another memory crept up from the recesses of my mind to ambush me.
Jarrod’s warm breath caressed my neck as he nibbled on my earlobe, his soft voice whispering, “That means a lot to me, that you don’t want us to end.”
It was the day before graduation and everything between us was going so well. My boyfriend. My first boyfriend. I hadn’t said it out loud but I repeated the word over and over in my mind. We had kissed. He had said he wanted to spend the summer with me. I was too flustered to say anything.
“Seventy-two days until I leave for college. There’s a lot we can do in seventy-two days,” he said.
Chloe Wendel wouldn’t be thrilled about this development. Nor would my sister. I didn’t know what Megan’s hang-up was about Jarrod. Hardly a day went by when she didn’t tell me to “dump the loser” or that I should find someone more like me, whatever that meant. Chloe’s motives, on the other hand, were transparent. She wanted Jarrod for herself. Then, with a flash of inspiration, I wondered if Megan was after the same thing. Only then did I attribute meaning to all the looks she and Jarrod had given one another. In trying to get me to break with Jarrod, was my sister looking after my best interests or her own? After all, she and I had never been close and only someone who didn’t know us would describe our relationship as “friendly.”
My mood disturbed, I gently disentangled myself from Jarrod’s embrace. He appeared annoyed. My inner voice warned me: Finally getting somewhere and now you’re pulling back. Always pulling back. He’s not going to wait around forever. You know what he wants. You know what they all want. Chloe wouldn’t make him wait.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What do you think of my sister?”
“Megan? She’s hot.”
Wrong answer. What guy tells his girlfriend that he thinks her sister is hot (even if it was true)? But that was Jarrod. He wasn’t known for filtering his speech. Perhaps recognizing his blunder, he hastily added, “But you’re hotter.”
I smiled but the smile was as shallow as his tact. The worm of doubt had begun to gnaw into my thoughts. And now, as I pulled myself free of the memory’s grip, I knew how this would all turn out. The dreamy bliss of a summer with Jarrod would collapse. He would go to Chloe and Megan. And I would end up here after some sort of ugly confrontation.
“Another message from Janelle-who-was?” asked Samell as I again became aware of my current surroundings. The two of us had stopped while the remainder of our group continued forward. They were some two-hundred feet ahead.
“She picks the most unpredictable times to assert herself.”
“Was it something I said?”
“Actually, it was. Associations can trigger memories. Words. Sights. Smells.” Pieces coming together. So much still unknown. I didn’t feel like talking about it now, though - not even with Samell. Absorbing memories always left me feeling drained and distant. “Let’s hurry to catch up with the others.”
The rest of the day passed uneventfully as we trudged across monotonously similar territory for hour after hour. Progress was slow because of all the razor grass and brambles that had to be cleared away. We were leaving an obvious trail but no one was following us. The view was the same in every direction - a unbroken plain of browning, shoulder high vegetation. At least there was plenty of small animal and insect life. The Blight hadn’t stretched out its arm this far.
The day was pleasantly warm but the sun’s angle in the sky was more obviously lower than it had been earlier in the season. As the glowing orb began its final approach toward the horizon, we stopped to make camp for the night. A significant area had to be cleared away to allow room for a fire and everyone to lie down comfortably. As with the previous night, there was abundant material to feed the flames but nothing substantial. It was necessary to constantly feed the blaze to keep it from sputtering and dying.
I caught the s
cent soon after we had stopped - a distant, fetid tang carried on a wayward breeze. It was similar to what I had smelled in the river but with hints of carrion to enrich the stench. My mind-sense identified hints of a strange, non-human life but at this distance, it was hard to pinpoint.
“How far are we from The Rank Marsh?” I asked as we sat around the fire and gazed into the deepening darkness. The air was definitely chilly; I was grateful for the warmth of the flames, which popped and crackled happily as Esme and Willem took turns dumping bundles of straw, razor grass, and “pricklers” onto them.
“Reckon about two cycles,” said Gabriel, chewing on a chunk of jerky. “Assuming the weather holds, we should get there by midday.”
“I don’t like the way it smells.”
His answering chuckle was short and mirthless. “If you don’t like it now, you definitely won’t like it tomorrow.” Something to look forward to.
Once I had finished eating, I curled up in a ball and drifted off to sleep, my head pillowed on my provisions sack and a threadbare blanket draped over my upper body to help the fire ward off the chill. It was amazing how cold it got out in the open once the sun had set.
Memories didn’t chase me that night but something else did - something that made me starkly afraid of what might happen on the morrow when we passed close to The Rank Marsh.
Chapter Twenty: The Presence in the Rank
With every passing minute, the stench grew stronger and, with it, the unease that plagued my mind-sense. There was something out there in The Rank Marsh, something whose nature ran contrary to the natural laws. It was ugly and perverted, the twisted result of dwelling too long surrounded by stagnation and decay. I didn’t know what it was but I was sure I didn’t want to encounter it up close. And it knew I was here.
Last night as I had slept, its mind had stretched out to mine, perhaps sensing that I was different from the usual humans that skirted its realm. I had recoiled from it but not before we each took the measure of the other - me frightened, it hungry. I could sense its terrible need. It wanted to devour me in ways I couldn’t begin to understand. It didn’t just want my body. It wanted so much more.
I considered asking Gabriel to detour around the marsh altogether, but it wouldn’t matter. The creature wouldn’t be constrained by the physical boundaries men had put on the swamp. Like any animal, it could venture outside its territory if it sensed prey. The swamp was its lair but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t pursue me even if I avoided it by a wide margin. Short of turning back, there was no safe route. Somewhere, the fire reavers were massing for their next attack. I couldn’t sense them but I knew this. Time wasn’t my ally. I had to push forward even though the dweller in the marsh had my scent.
Samell had been watching me with concern all morning. He knew everything wasn’t right (not exactly a unique situation on this journey). He had gotten to know me well enough since my arrival to read my moods and he recognized this wasn’t the byproduct of a nightmare or a bad memory. I motioned for everyone to stop. They had to know. They had to understand that they were approaching danger.
“Gabriel’s rumors about The Rank Marsh are correct. There’s something out there. Something ugly and dangerous. Something that’s hunting me now. We have two choices: forge ahead knowing it will probably catch us or turn back for West Fork and hope it will give up the chase.”
“If we head directly south from here…” began Gabriel.
I cut him off. “It lives in the marsh but it can leave. I sense its relentlessness. It won’t give up. Taking a more southerly route will merely prolong the journey not prevent an encounter.”
“How far away is it?” asked Willem. “The Rank Marsh is a big place. If it’s up by The Long Orchard, we may be well to the west before it makes it this far south.”
The strange thing was that, although my mind could sense its presence, I couldn’t pinpoint its location. North and west of our present position, that was all. There was no sense of distance. It was almost as if it wasn’t physically rooted to this world.
“I don’t know. It’s somewhere in the swamp but, beyond that, I can’t tell. If it’s not between us and where we’re going, it soon will be.”
“Gabriel, may I make a suggestion?” asked Willem.
Our one-armed guide nodded, obviously feeling out of his depth.
Willem bent close to Ramila and spoke quietly to her in his native language. I knew what she was going to say before she translated. “Willem suggests that we head directly for the marsh. These grasses and brambles are taking too long to cut through. As we get close to the swamplands, the underbrush will thin out and, as long as we don’t go too far in, the soft ground won’t slow us. That should enable us to move more quickly without having to worry about being sucked under.”
Although the thought of willingly approaching The Rank Marsh sounded counter-intuitive, I couldn’t deny the logic of Willem’s proposal. At this point, speed was the most important thing and I didn’t think it was substantially more dangerous to skirt the swamp for an extra day.
Willem turned to me. The ease with which he spoke told me that he was using his language. “In my land, we have heard of creatures like these. They live deep in places where men don’t venture. We call them soul-rippers. They rarely bother with people but legends say they crave Summoners and those with magic and second sight. While you are undoubtedly their target, Ramila may also be in danger. I don’t know if we’ll be able to defend you against this thing but we’ll certainly try.”
I turned to Gabriel. “If we follow Willem’s suggestion, how long until we reach the mountains?”
He considered. “Two, maybe three days around the marsh then another day crossing the plains. So figure about four days if nothing slows us down.”
“Any counter-opinions?” I asked.
No one said anything. They didn’t know the terrain. They were relying on Gabriel’s knowledge of the area, Willem’s experience, and my mind-sense. They would do what I decided. I was the leader and if I chose wrong, I could get us all killed. Or maybe just me. Willem could be right. Perhaps the soul-ripper, if that’s what it was, didn’t care about my defenders.
“Then let’s do it,” I said and, without another word, our new course was established.
The day passed by under a cloud of gloom and the weather reflected our mood with darkening skies in advance of a persistent drizzle that started in the early afternoon. It made travel miserable but didn’t slow us down. I continued monitoring the soul-ripper but, aside from the constancy of its presence, I couldn’t read much. If it was moving closer, I couldn’t tell. Nothing else of interest was in the immediate vicinity - no reavers and no other followers from West Fork.
We reached the edges of the swamp in the mid-afternoon and, as Willem had predicted, travel became easier. The razor grasses thinned out as the ground became soggy and we were able to double our pace. The smell was overpowering - that peculiar stench unique to bogs of decomposing vegetation and the gasses given off by the decaying process. My heightened sense of smell made it difficult to keep down the contents of my stomach.
The overcast sky necessitated an early stop as none of us wanted to venture on past darkness in this terrain. It was obvious that a fire was going to be difficult with the pervasive dampness and lack of fuel conspiring against it but we needed the warmth. Hypothermia was a legitimate concern in these conditions. Not only were we all soaked through but the temperature was dropping precipitously. This was the coldest I had experienced since coming to this world. Underneath the animal hide cloak I had donned, I was starting to shiver. It was time to make use of my magic. Something simple that hopefully wouldn’t precipitate a headache.
I knew how to make fire. That was one of the first lessons Backus had taught me. The issue wasn’t kindling the flame but keeping it going without demanding my constant attention. I considered the problem while the others made camp and, when I had arrived at a possible solution, I asked them to clear an area for th
e fire and caused it to spring to life. No one showed any surprise. With the exception of Ramila and Willem, they had all seen me use magic and the two newcomers had accepted my legitimacy without question.
The flames were duller and ruddier than those of a normal fire because they were fed not by air and wood but by the earth underneath them. This fire used clay and mud for its fuel; it would char them and turn them to ash the way a normal fire would do with sticks and brush. It would burn until I commanded it to stop, reaching ever deeper into the earth as the layers above it were consumed. It was self-perpetuating, requiring nothing of me to remain lit and, although it was dimmer than a regular fire, it gave off as much (or possibly even a little more) heat. And my head was fine. I felt a flush of satisfaction at what I had accomplished. Even the longest journeys started with a few small steps.
We gathered around, letting the warmth from the reddish-brown flames wash over us. I slipped off my boots to let my pruned toes dry out. Samell, sitting to my left and rubbing his hands briskly together, said, “It’s a nice fire. I guess having a Summoner along is good for something.” His lips quirked upward as he took my left hand in his right and squeezed.
I smiled. It was so rare that the serious young man cracked a joke that it would have been rude not to react. The physical contact, however, caused my heart to flutter. It was as unexpected as it was welcome.
“What else can you do?” asked Esme, digging into her pack to get some trail food. The rest of us followed suit.
It was a good question; I wished I knew the answer. “That’s why we’re on this trip, and the real question might not be what I can do but what I can do without being incapacitated by a headache. I’m no good to anyone if I’m unconscious or overcome by pain.” Making fires was one thing. Fighting reavers, daemons, and soul-rippers was another.
“Did you speak to my father about these headaches?” asked Ramila.
Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1) Page 22
