When nothing changes as I trudge forward, though, I keep going. What else can I do? I don’t have supplies. I’m in a collared polo shirt with the coffee house logo over my breast, a sun visor, and my greige slacks stick to my legs. I don’t even have my purse.
There’s no god of anything to be seen anywhere, either.
I remind myself that I’m doing this for my brother. That I’m willingly putting myself in discomfort so he can have a life. If Lachesis wasn’t lying about transporting me here, then all I need to do is find the god I’m going to be spending time with, attach myself to his side, and make sure we both stay alive. I have to trust the process.
Another mosquito bites my neck, and I slap at it. Bug spray would be nice. As the sun goes down, the insects are getting thicker—or maybe they just realized how delicious I am and they’re swarming. I think about survival clips I watched online and reach down into the gross water, pulling out a handful of mud. I rub it all over my exposed skin, covering my face, my arms and neck, and even the part of my hair. When I’m covered in goop, I trudge onward.
It stops the bugs biting, for which I’m thankful, but I’m pretty sure I look like a hot mess and smell worse. I’m supposed to be meeting a god? Here? Now? I picture holding my slimy hand out for him to shake as I look like nothing more than Swamp Thing’s cousin, and I chuckle to myself.
As the sun goes down, fireflies fill the evening sky, and distant splashes tell me that things are getting into the water. I should be alarmed over that, but at some point, a calm feeling has fallen over me. The god must be in this direction, and nothing’s going to kill me until I get there.
It’s not part of Lachesis’s plan.
So I ignore the large snake that slithers past, the floating thing a short distance away that looks like a log and might not be, and continue trudging forward. I eye the red moon as it rises high in the night sky, the best sign so far that this is definitelynotmy world. The red moon is also huge in the sky, easily three times the size of our moon back home, and so close that I can see the craters that dot the surface. That’s a little alarming.
“The tides here must be crazy,” I comment to a firefly that flickers past. It floats nearby in the air, lighting up and going dark before flicking to life again. It seems to be hovering, and I hold a finger up to try and offer it a perch, since it wants to hang out.
That’s when I see it—the faint outline of what looks like some sort of building off in the distance. Multiple fat spires blot out the night sky, like fingers reaching toward the moon. This must be the place. With a sigh of relief, I pause in my walking to rest for a moment. Slogging through mud takes a lot out of a gal. But I’m close now. This has to be the location that I’m meant to be at. Getting stuck in a swamp is just…a speedbump. This temple must be where they’re going to keep the god of disease.
Ugh. Just thinking about someone ruling over that, wanting to push diseases out onto an unsuspecting people, makes me want to stop them. That’s what I’m here to do, right? To make sure the Apathy guy stays in charge so no one more aggressive takes control of the situation. I need the one that has trouble getting out of bed. That’s what I traded my life for.
I think of my brother, and how I’ll never get to explain any of this to him. A vague sense of despair moves over me, but I push it away. I smile or I break, and I’m not going to break. Not today. Lachesis told me because I keep on going, no matter what, and that’s my plan.
Even in a big nasty swamp.
“I love your swamp,” I bellow out at the mosquitoes even as I wipe more mud onto my arms. “Bring it on!”
It takesa while to get to the temple as it rises in the moonlight. It’s not as close as I thought it was, and as it gets bigger and bigger as I continue to struggle through the swamp, I ponder at how difficult it must have been to build it here. There’s very little solid ground that’s not covered in three feet of muck, and a big stone temple the size of a small city seems like a very ambitious project. It reminds me a lot of the photos of Angkor Wat, the massive ruin in the jungles of Cambodia. I’d done a research paper on it for one of my college classes before I had to drop it to take care of David.
“Well, I did always want to travel,” I joke at my humid surroundings.
As I approach the temple, there are more dead trees to navigate, and crumbled stones and rocks. The swamp becomes more of an obstacle course, and the foliage grows thicker together. Broken stone streets start to show up and disappear into the murk, covered with vines, and I realize that this temple might be older than I’d anticipated. Maybe no one lives here, and the reason why it was built in a swamp is because the swamp came after the temple?
Which worries me, because I’m getting hungry and tired. I’m also pretty sure that I’ve been bitten by bugs on every inch of skin, both exposed and not. My shoes aren’t made for slogging through mud and feel like bloated boats. My fingers are prunes. The smile I’ve kept pinned to my face is fading fast.
But then I feel it. Underneath my feet, there’s a stone step.
Immediately, my mood lifts. I climb onto the stone platform that surrounds the massive temple, my clothing dripping and smelling of swamp, my shoes squishing with every step. I stare around me in wonder at the massive temple complex, at one domed building after another that I wander past. There are vines and moss on everything, choking every bit of rock andwearing away any paint that might have been on the surface. Everything seems deserted.
I creep along as quietly as possible, because even the bugs are quiet now. Maybe I’ll find a nice place to sleep and tackle exploring again in the morning.
You’re doing this for David, I remind myself. There’s a point to all of this. You’re not just wandering in a swamp.
Soft flute music and a drum beat drifts through the air. Okay, that’s a good sign that someone’s here. I turn in that direction, following it across the crumbling temple complex. As hazy sunlight starts to break through the early morning twilight, I catch glimpses of flower petals, strewn on the weathered brick. They’re practically leaving a trail for me.
I follow it, and it leads into the largest of the strange, tall cone buildings. I step through the small doorway, and I’m assailed by the scent of incense, flowers, and smoke. Braziers are set along the edges of the interior room, which is as enormous as a ballroom. Orange light and heavy shadows illuminate everything. There’s a large altar set at the back of the room across from the entrance, and there are people sitting in rows on the floors, all facing the altar. Bowls of offerings are set in front of each of them.
Behind the altar, high on a dais, is what looks like a throne carved out of stone. It’s empty.
I study the people, who haven’t noticed me yet. They’re dressed like medieval peasants, in simple clothing of muted colors. Everyone has long hair, and the men have beards, the women braids. I see lots of blondes and redheads, and everyone has very pale skin. Nothing about them screams swamp people, except for maybe the long beards on the men. Swamp Vikings? Are these people swamp Vikings? Is that a thing in this world?
As I stand there, pondering these strangers, a woman goesto the altar. She’s got long, shock-white hair and wears a moss-green gown that trails along the floor. In her arms is a baby goat, and it bleats as she sets it atop the altar.
Oh, oh no.
“Don’t do that,” I blurt out just as she brandishes a knife.
Everyone turns to stare at me.
