River and Bog
To everyone else, the chest was empty. However, Marie saw all that she needed to see: three shining, golden rings. They were the loveliest pieces of jewelry she could have imagined. As her desire for them quickly swelled, she peered up at the knight. His extended hands and demeanor spoke clearly— the rings were hers to take.
Only when she removed them from the chest could her comrades also see the trinkets. They glimmered with the spray of the rushing river. As Marie brought the rings close to her, mesmerized, Courinn could not keep her immediate thoughts silent.
“No, Marie. You must put them back. This is your test.”
Marie glanced at Courinn, then back to the rings.
“Why?” she asked, “They’re so beautiful.”
“Courinn is right,” said Perion. “They’re most likely not even genuine.”
But Marie became ever more spellbound by the rings as she held them up, the light from them dancing in her eyes. “Of course they’re real,” she said. She saw they were of different sizes, appearing like they would very neatly fit her.
“No, Marie, listen to your heart,” said Courinn.
“My name is Charlotte,” answered Marie defiantly, with a sudden throb of annoyance. She ignored any further warning. The golden rings were hers now and she would keep them. She drowned out everything but the thoughts of what her new treasure would look like, adorned on her own fingers.
Courinn, Perion and the rest watched Marie, unsure what to do about the obvious spell that was being cast over her, strengthening more each second. Marie stuck her fingers up to slide the rings upon them, when something jarred her attention away for a mere second: a whirring, buzzing noise.
Her eyes refocused to the sound’s source: The giant horsefly still buzzing about the knight’s helmet. She then saw the great, powerful knight wince ever so slightly, barely discernible. Marie instantly empathized with what he must have endured for who knows how many hours or days, incessantly tortured and bitten, yet, in his unwavering discipline never moving to swat the monstrous insect away.
Compassion alone allowed Marie with great effort to momentarily force aside the desire in her mind. Instinctively, she reached out above her, allowing a few moments to let the vile insects’ flight sync with her internal reaction and response mechanisms. She then struck against the knight’s helmet with a loud slap.
The fly’s buzzing instantly ceased as it fell dead under Marie’s palm to the ground below. Her companions stood, blinking, not knowing what to anticipate next from the hulking warrior. The knight immediately pulled back his extended hands. He then rose, amidst all the contracting and flexing sounds of his armor.
He stood at full height, towering over little Marie. His right arm sprung out, lunging for the huge sword and shield at his side. With a fearful gasp from Courinn, Brage, Perion and Tybain all came forward in protection of their friend, but it was unnecessary. The knight sheathed his broadsword, while his other arm slid behind his shield. He then bowed low and humbly before Marie and held himself in that position several long moments before rising again and stepping away.
Marie did not know what to say or think, but looking down, she realized that her hands were now empty and that she had dropped the rings back into the chest. She saw they were no longer golden, but three circles of blackened metal, smoking and quickly dispersing into ash as the chest closed on its own with a clang.
Her companions watched the knight as he approached the riverbank and began readying the log raft.
“You did it,” exclaimed Brage. “He’s going to take us.”
“You passed the test,” said Courinn.
“It was never about what was in the chest or not,” said Perion.
With a wide grin, Brage was again speaking into his radio, glancing at Marie proudly. Tybain quietly approached her. He simply nodded his head, obviously quite impressed.
“Cool,” he said simply. “But who’s Charlotte?” Then he turned and walked away as each of them started towards the knight and his raft.
Marie again peered down at the closed chest. She shook her head in vague confusion as the images of something long ago quickly scattered from her mind.
Tilda’s bedroom door opened, revealing her lying face down on the bed. Under her was a damp spot on the sheets where she had been crying. In walked Nioma; her normally ruthless expression now softened as she gently sat down next to her daughter.
“I’m sorry, Tilda,” she began. “I really didn’t understand what this friend of yours meant to you.” She extended a hand out, but halted just short of laying it reassuringly on Tilda’s shoulders.
“I’ve done some reorganization, and I was able to stop your friend from being harmed,” she added.
Tilda turned over, facing her mother, her eyes and face wet and blotchy. “Are you sure, mom? He’ll be okay?”
Nioma’s brow arched and twisted, revealing for a moment only her sadistic true nature. With a quick smile, she again masked it and feigned being a loving parent.
“Yes he will, but— only if you take back your threat and never tell the sheriff or anyone else about what I do. Do you promise that, Tilda?”
She nodded with an earnest sniffle, thankful for the unexpected mercy her mother was extending her.
“And if I ever find that you’ve broken your promise— Well, then you can really forget about Jack Salento for good. But I’m sure it will never come to that, right?”
“No.”
Nioma rose. She cast a sickly sweet smile at Tilda and then silently left the room.
The raft looked old and weathered, but it was surprisingly sturdy. They all sat upon it as the knight worked an enormous oar, against the upstream current. This must have taken tremendous strength, especially with their added weight. Brage stared at the woods, marking the failing sunlight, or what little of it could be seen.
“The day stretches short,” he said, peering at the armored ferryman. “How long, sir, until we reach the river’s final bend northward?” The knight made no reply. He just rowed on, dredging up huge swaths of foamy, bubbling water.
Marie was grinning, her thoughts caught up in some humorous reverie. She got up, carefully steadying herself and made her way right next to the knight.
“So I guess you haven’t gotten around much lately?” she teased. After hearing only the sounds of the river in response, Marie sidled up even closer to him.
“Well, I’ve got a question for you, ” she said. “I’ll bet you don’t know …” She let a long beat of silence invade their space, “where knights go to grab a bite to eat?” Everyone looked at Marie in genuine surprise. When obviously no answer came, she answered, “To an all-knight diner, of course!”
Courinn and Brage chuckled. Perion nodded in amusement. Tybain squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain.
“Oh come on,” said Marie, meekly glancing up at the soldier. “That one used to break up everybody back at the castle.”
The knight actually stopped rowing. He lowered his gaze, peering at Marie from somewhere behind his visor. He held this position several long moments and Marie could only guess what was being processed by the wheels turning in his head. Just as abruptly, he began rowing again with his head held high.
“Fidleedee, does anyone in these woods have a sense of humor?” asked Marie with a grin.
The land on both sides changed as they sailed on, appearing denser and darker. They passed through areas of low mist several times, skirting above the water. Twice the river bent rather sharply, first to the right, then the left. The strangest and most alarming thing they saw were the birds. They were large, unsightly creatures like vultures, high up in the trees, glaring down at them. From bony, crooked throats, they gutturally croaked.
“It feels like those birds are waiting for something,” asked Perion, passing under three of the largest they had yet seen.
“If those are really birds,” said Marie, “they are ugly.”
As if one of the winged beasts heard her, it sprang out from the branches above with a foul shriek. Its wingspan was considerable and it swooped down over them. They shrank as it passed, all but the knight who continued on, not even noticing.
“You hurt its feelings,” said Courinn with a smirk.
“Who would have thought?” said Marie, still cowering. “Vultures wigging out from insults.” She turned to the knight again, brazenly banging her knuckles against his leg armor, like knocking on a door. “And you, my friend,” she said, “Do you have any idea ...” Again, she waited a beat ... .
“... what you call knights who trade places at the round table? Do you?”
Brage and Courinn grinned, waiting ... .
“Come on! The knight shift!”
Tybain ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head.
Her companions smiled, warmed by Marie’s ability to keep the mood light, in spite of the anxiety and uncertainty they knew she must have been feeling inside.
Then it began, suddenly. The knight reacted a split second early, dropping his oar and drawing his broadsword, but it wasn’t good enough. They were all caught off guard.
From the river ahead, the sound of great fluttering wings broke out, followed this time by many horrible shrieks. As Marie looked up, a growing shadow approached. Dozens of the vulture-like birds now came at them ... .
The knight swung his mighty broadsword, cleaving in two the first vulture to reach them. But many more were behind it as Brage and Tybain stepped up to help the knight. Perion retreated, standing in front of Marie. She caught him exchange a quick glance with Courinn, who shook her head as if to some prior question or concern, which Marie curiously could not guess.
One of the vultures bore down on Tybain, its sharply hooked beak tearing into his left shoulder as it clung onto his back. In the next moment, Tybain’s arm swung up, his hand wielding one of the iron nails they had brought as he stabbed into the vulture’s sickly long neck. There was a sizzling sound like burned flesh and the bird released him. It flopped upon the raft, toppling into the stream, dead. The huskier built Brage lunged out to another of the attacking birds. He caught it with his bare hands, quickly snapping its neck. But as he fumbled to grasp a nail from his pack— unlike Tybain, who carried his on him at all times— two more birds charged into Brage. After a fierce struggle, he was knocked backwards. He stumbled, trying to gain his footing as a third vulture struck him. Carrying the only radio they had, he fell with a frenzied splash into the water.
The knight slew many of the attacking birds, before he lowered his sword and began desperately maneuvering the raft to the northern shoreline. Marie withdrew the Swiss army knife she had so far carried from home. Still, Perion stood over her, protecting her, defiantly waving about him the bundled twigs they had also brought, scattering the birds with a hate-filled scowl as they came near. Courinn drew the salt from their pouches, pitching it into the vulture’s eyes, painfully afflicting them.
Tybain, wielding a nail in each hand, drove both through two more vulture’s heads. He turned, seeing Brage struggling in the water with several more of the beastly birds as the river’s current dragged him away.
Perion and Tybain locked eyes, instantly assessing their situation as they read each other’s thoughts.
“The current’s too strong, we’ll lose him!” shouted Tybain above the fray.
“Go!” answered Perion. He glanced at Marie and Courinn. “I’ve got to stay with them! Go, Ty, while you can!”
Tybain hesitated, concerned for his younger companion. A vulture came straight at his head, but was slashed in pieces by the knight’s sword. Marie caught a quick glimpse at Tybain’s shoulder where he was bitten. It was bleeding, but to Marie’s shock, it wasn’t red. It was dark blue.
“I’ll be all right!” yelled Perion. “Good luck, Ty, now go!” Tybain nodded to his comrade, then turned and dove out into the river. The current swiftly took him following Brage, now almost out of sight.
Courinn continued vigorously casting out handfuls of salt as the birds careened wildly upon contact, scorching their filthy hides. But even as Perion thoroughly protected Marie, a vulture broke past and snapped its beak down on Marie’s neck. She screamed out in pain and fright as Perion smashed the beast in the face with his bundled twigs, followed by a hard stab from an iron nail. The vulture screeched, falling to the raft where Perion kicked it into the water.
The knight at last brought the raft to rest along the shoreline as Perion and Courinn examined Marie. Her neck wound was chewed nastily and from Marie’s reaction, was quite excruciating. More beasts came at them as the knight’s sword again struck out. Courinn swept a handful of salt just under Marie’s blood trickling wound. A single droplet, as if spell-woven was soaked into the salt, turning it bright red. When Courinn launched the red salt at the attacking vultures, it caught them aflame on contact, where they burned in smoking heaps.
Perion nodded. “I forgot about that trick.” He and Courinn lifted Marie under her arms, bringing her up to her feet. Together they helped her off the raft onto the shore.
They hurried into the woods to escape the birds’ onslaught. The knight saw them race off, just as he slew three more vultures. At last, they heard his voice, a deep roar that echoed after them.
“Nooooo!”
Perion and Courinn continued into some thick tree cover, then halted. Carefully lowering Marie to the ground, Perion gravely looked up. “Can you do this?”
“I think so,” said Courinn, “but I’m not ready to show her everything. With your help?” Perion nodded, understanding. Marie was lightheaded but conscious as Perion gently cupped his hands over her forehead. Slowly rolling his fingers down over her eyes, they closed as Marie dozed off into light sleep.
When she woke minutes later, Courinn was earnestly bent over her. Marie unclenched her neck and shoulder as if her pain was gone. Bringing her hand up to touch it, she found that her wound was closed and scabbed over, as it might have looked weeks from now— not fully healed, but given a good head start. Marie caressed her neck in amazement. “You both got some things to explain.”
“Not now,” Perion replied. “We’ve got to find the knight. Are you okay to move on?”
“Yeah, I can,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“I don’t hear the birds anymore,” said Courinn. “Do you think he finished them all?”
“He sure seemed to,” said Perion. “Was that cry from him?”
They helped Marie up. After a few moments, she seemed okay.
“I think it was,” surmised Courinn. “And I’m afraid I know what he feared.”
“What?” asked Marie.
“Let’s find out,” said Perion. “Come on.”
They head back the way they came. There was no sound of any vultures or of any running water. Perion grew uneasy after they returned far enough to have reached the river. Everywhere, the woods now looked very different. The ground soon became soft, then moist, then only a bit farther, downright swampy.
“This can’t be,” said Perion. “Where is the river? We couldn’t have missed it backtracking this far.”
“I think you already know,” replied Courinn, grimly nodding her head. “We’re not going to find our knightly friend anywhere soon. Or your comrades, Perion.”
“What do you mean?” asked Marie. “Where are they?”
Perion closed his eyes in sudden realization. “That’s what the knight’s cry was: a last warning. Just as the professor counseled: do not leave the stream until the end.”
“We’re nowhere near where we stood minutes ago,” stated Courinn. “Look at the woods. Everything’s different.”
“We’re on the edge of some swamp,” said Perion. “We’ve been caught in one of Spellhollow’s many shifting tracts.”
Marie peered around them. “That quickly? We only went a short way!”
“We were lost moments after we left the stream,” said Courinn.
Perion stepped further along the swampy ground. He bent to touch it as he sniffed at the air. He peered long and far into the terrain ahead, taking note of the now visible setting sun. “Our luck may have turned for the worse,” he said. “I fear this is now the outskirts of the Red Marshes, some three miles north of where we just were. And if it is, we are in great peril, especially with dusk fast approaching.”
“The Red Marshes,” said Courinn. “You mean the Vampire Bog?”
Perion nodded.
“Oh no. We have to get out of here!”
“Right now,” said Perion. “Follow me!” He sprang off.
They kept to a good pace as Perion searched for the marsh’s edge, hoping to quickly veer away from it. But as they ran, he could find no boundary. The marsh only continued on. He halted, letting the girls catch their breath while he tried to reorient himself. Courinn quickly checked Marie’s neck wound. It appeared even smaller than it was minutes ago.
“Vampire Bog?” panted Marie. “What does that mean?”
“It’s one of the most deadly places in all the wood,” explained Courinn, in contrast, hardly out of breath. “Many wicked things dwell within it, but the most evil are the horrible sluag.”
“What are they?” asked Marie, her eyes darting between the swampy trees.
“We just escaped some very nasty birds,” said Perion, “who are probably a distant relation to what the sluag are or once were.”
“More birds?” exclaimed Marie. “Worse than vultures?”
“Much more horrible,” said Courinn. “Demonic vampire bats. Most are one-eyed, some are as small as insects, others as large as us, but they all possess great strength and are fast as the wind. They also carry a deadly poison.”
“This bog seems to extend in all directions,” said Perion, “like it’s swallowing us up, the more we try to escape. Could this place also cast the same bewitchment as the shifting tracks? I don’t know this region, the professor has always warned us away from here.”
“You may be right,” said Courinn.
“Which means we’re possibly trapped,” said Perion. “Blast, if only we still had our radio. I suppose we lost it with Brage.”
They were indeed trapped. It was dusk now, which made their frightening predicament much worse. Marie fought her urge to outright panic. She knew she could not, knowing her friends’ respect and admiration. Still, as she gazed at Courinn and Perion’s faces in the gloom, for a moment they resembled some scary incarnation of a vaguely remembered past.
Then, something else caught her attention. Lights, one by one like pale lamps suddenly began appearing all around them.
“What is that?” cried Marie, now on the edge of self-control. This was not at all like the mydrus trees, where she could at least see the danger. This was unknown, it was in the dark and it was far scarier.
“Quick, stand close with our backs together!” instructed Perion. Marie knew that he immediately shifted into his training regimen, whatever that was, and she felt comforted that he was with them. She drew her knife again.
Perion drew out two nails in defense, one in each hand. “Ready all the salt you have, Courinn!” Standing between her friends, Marie felt dizzy. A singing voice, deep, dark and ominous began in her head. Her arms and legs went numb. Everything around her spun as the singing grew louder. Her legs became lifeless, giving out from under her. She swooned ... .
The lights began moving now, coming closer, tightening around each of them.