With each passing day, the swamp became weirder. The shape of the trees was all wrong, and their silhouettes in the fog often reminded Kraghtol of people twisted in pain. Up close, they didn’t look any better, either. Brambles and thorns grew out of oaks and willows, and at one point, they found a plum tree, with exactly one half bearing bright yellow fruit. Food was scarce, but neither of them touched any of the out-of-season plums. Kraghtol didn’t recognize most of the smaller plants anymore, and for some herbs, he wasn’t even sure if they could exist outside the swamp at all.
The further they went in, the worse it got. Finally, after a crystalline dragonfly that scintillated in all colors of the rainbow touched him and exploded into a cloud of dazzling glass-like shards that dug painfully into his arm, Valir spoke up.
“That’s it. I have enough. Let’s turn back.”
“But the orderkeepers,” Dagna began before Kraghtol even had the chance, but was cut off by the noble again.
“Have you looked around? How is anything the orderkeepers can do to us worse than… all of this?! I’ll just pay their stupid fine, for all of you, if that means I don’t have toendureanother day here. This is torture!”
Even the swamp animals seemed to pause in the silence that followed the sudden outburst, and Kraghtol felt himself trembling.
“It’s not a fee,” he stated flatly. “I’m wanted for murder. There will not be any fees, and you know that.I didn’t do it.” The last sentence was for Dagna, whose eyes had grown wide. “I can’t turn back… but you can.”
Another moment of silence followed, and Valir’s face reflected the turmoil in Kraghtol’s mind.
“Oh, come on now, you two. A few more days in the mud won’t kill you, Valir. We need to talk about themurderthing, though, Kragh.”
“Fine,” Valir muttered like a scolded schoolboy, and Kraghtol couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude for her pragmatism.
“Perhaps you can find something to soothe your nerves, Valir. This has to be a lot for you,” Kraghtol suggested as they went on.
Valir did, and Kraghtol wished he had kept his mouth shut. During the rests, the noble resumed practicing the lyre. He played perfect scales and simple, rhythmic patterns over and over again, as if trying to force some sense into his environment that way. At first, Kraghtol wanted to say something about it, but he didn’t. As tiring as it was, maybe playing like that helped Valir cope, and it didn’t make their situation worse, anyway. The orderkeepers had obvious tracks to follow,so the eerie notes in the fog changed nothing. If anything, it told their pursuers they were still alive.
It gnawed at Kraghtol that he had no information about the orderkeepers at all. After having seen four of them enter the swamp, the uniformed people were little more than specters haunting his mind, always looming to burst through the fog at any moment. Perhaps they had already broken off their pursuit. Or perhaps they had lost their tracks and were lost or even dead. All of that was possible, but he just had no way of knowing for sure, so he had to expect the worst. Even if that meant waking up every five minutes at night.
A few more nerve-wracking days later, Kraghtol could tell they were getting close to the center, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The area had stopped making sense altogether. Paths went downhill both ways, and going in a full circle didn’t end them up where they started. Kraghtol didn’t recognize any of the plants anymore, but all of them looked dangerous and downright insidious. The foliage was so dense that even during the day the light was dim, and almost black during the night. They were forced to make camp early at dusk, and Kraghtol hoped the same held true for the orderkeepers.
As usual, Valir was practicing the lyre, and by now, Kraghtol actually looked forward to the sound of it. It was predictable, which was more than could be said for everything else. While Dagna was fidgeting with her mechanical parts, he stared into the darkening fog, like he did every evening, searching for any sign of their pursuers. The swirling mist made it hard to tell, and he had been wrong before, so when he saw movement, he first took a second look. To his horror, this time, there was no denying it. Something was moving towards them.
“They’re coming!” he said and stumbled to his feet, grabbing the branch he used to stake his way firmly. Immediately, Valir stopped playing, and silence fell.
“That’s no human,” Dagna said as a low growl pierced the fog, followed by the breaking of twigs.
“I wish it were,” Valir said dryly while backing off until his back hit a tree.
“Quiet!” Kraghtol pressed out between his teeth. His eyes darted between the shifting tendrils of fog as he tried to find the source of the noise. Darkness was setting in quickly now, and the shadows of trees against the dancing flames of their campfire projected onto the moisture. Wood cracked, and the half-orc twitched. He could feel his heart beating in his throat so much it threatened to cut off his air. Whatever was out there in the fog circled slowly around them, not stepping into the light of the fire yet. Another hard to pinpoint growl vibrated through the moist air.
One more branch broke with a loud snap, and Kraghtol could see Valir jump away from the source in the corner of his eye. He must have dropped his lyre, causing another sharp note to ring, and the creature jumped at them.
It was hideous, and unlike anything Kraghtol had ever seen. A mouth full of razor-sharp teeth slavered green, slimy-looking drool. It was attached to a wagon-sized body covered in bristly, dirty and irregular fur, occasionally broken by horns that looked like brambles. The creature had five legs ending in equally sharp claws cutting through the foliage, and as inappropriate as the thought was right now, Kraghtolcouldn’t help but ask himself if it had lost a sixth. He didn’t know a single animal with an odd number of limbs.
The ridiculous thought dissipated quickly as he realized the nature-defying creature was about to attack. Someone was shouting something, and without his active doing, Kraghtol launched himself right at it. His body moved entirely on its own now, and he was terrified as he swung his stick in a feeble attempt to fend off the nightmarish creature. The half-orc was screaming incoherently, the rational part of his mind all but gone. He hit the terrifying snout that could snap him in half without trouble, and his stick broke. The creature didn’t even seem to notice. The fur hid a leathery hide that was hard as brick.
Suddenly and miraculously, the beast stopped mid-sprint, using all five legs to brake, covering Kraghtol in mud in the process. He could smell the foul breath as it remained in front of him for a few heartbeats, and he didn’t dare to move. Finally, the creature gave a grunt and turned around, slowly now, and retreated into the impenetrable fog.
“Stone’s balls. What wasthat?” Dagna’s shaking voice was the first to dare speak.
“I don’t —” Kraghtol began, but was interrupted by Valir’s flat voice.
“A demon.And no one ever made it back, for demons roam the swamp.”
“What’s a demon?” Kraghtol asked, but before the noble could answer, Dagna was already on him.
“And you didn’t think to mention that before? Youknewthere were these… demons, and you didn’t think to tell us?!”
Valir raised his arms in defense. “There’s no such thing as demons. It’s just a story to scare children! None of it is real!”
He sighed. “At least that’s what I thought. But I guess if there is such a thing as ademon,we now know what it looks like. Not exactly friendly.”
