D& D - Greyhawk - Night Watch (26 page)

For a long moment, during which none of his friends looked him in the eye, no one spoke. Burge was the first. “An’ you believe this to be real, Cap’n?” he said, finally meeting Garett’s gaze.

Garett pursed his lips and nodded.

“If we wade in there, through all these bugs, and don’t find a sword,” Blossom said with a sigh, giving Garett a steely look as she fingered the long leather-wrapped braid that draped across her right shoulder, “I’m going to tie your neck in a knot. Captain, sir.” She slid down from her horse. A splash sounded as her feet disappeared, and the grass, which reached to her hips, gave a ripple.

“What are you doing?” Rudi cried out with some alarm.

“Get used to it, youngin’,” she answered over her shoulder, mocking the sergeant lightly. She unfastened her sword belt, refastened the buckle, and slung it over her shoulder so that the weapon rode between her shoulder blades, where the water couldn’t get at it. “We walk from here on in. Horses can’t get through that.”

Rudi looked horrified and clung to his reins.

“It’s all right,” Garett interceded, recognizing the genuine fear in Rudi’s eyes. The sergeant was still young, as Burge and Blossom insisted on reminding him at every turn. In fact, Garett realized Rudi probably had never been this far beyond the walls of Greyhawk in his life. “You’ll be staying here, Rudi. Someone’s got to mind the horses. We can’t risk them wandering off.”

Rudi shot a look of hurt confusion at Garett, realizing with a red blush why he’d been singled out. “But, Captain!”

“No buts, Sergeant,” Garett said sternly as he dismounted. The grass came up to his waist, the water almost to his knees. He addressed Rudi over the top of his saddle. “It’s not because I doubt your ability or your courage. But if all four of us went in, how would we find the horses at all on our way back, unless we leave someone behind to signal us?”

Rudi hesitated as he thought that over. Plainly, the thought that he had shown fear and that because of it his captain didn’t want him along still rankled. “How am I supposed to give a signal that you can hear in there?” he answered with a rough pout. “Sing a song every fifteen minutes?”

“Please, don’t,” Blossom said wearily, rolling her eyes as she led her horse by its bridle toward the nearest mangaroo root, where she tied its reins. “If you care nothing for us,

then consider the wildlife.”

“According to the barracks gossip,” Rudi snapped back, fed up with her comments, “you are the wildlife!”

“You’ll give a signal like this,” Burge interrupted quickly, breaking off a piece of grass. He place it on the tip of his tongue, then pressed that to the roof of his mouth and gave a surprisingly sharp, long whistle with a strange, characteristic trill provided by the vibration of the bit of grass. “It’s easy,” he added, breaking off another piece and handing it up to Rudi. “Go on, try it.”

Rudi mastered the technique after a few tries.

“An’ when your bit of grass wears thin, just pinch off another,” Burge continued encouragingly. “Blow it every few minutes, an’, sooner or later, I’ll hear it.”

Garett tied his horse beside Blossom’s, took Burge’s reins from the half-elf, and tied his horse while the lieutenant taught Rudi the grass trick. “You won’t need to worry about it for a while, though,” he called over his shoulder. “It’ll take us some time to get farther in. Don’t relax too much. There are plenty of threats to watch out for even out here.”

“Yeah,” Blossom muttered as she climbed up onto a network formed by the knotted mangaroo roots and levered herself out of the water. “Like lizard men.”

Garett saw Rudi start at that and silently cursed Blossom. Sometimes, she took her teasing too damned far. The last remains of that ancient and feared reptilian race had for centuries maintained its last known lair in the Mist Marsh. At one time, the entire swamp had been their preserve, and they had guarded it zealously with sword and shield and javelin. Slowly, though, they had retreated deeper and deeper into the marsh. Most people thought they had died out altogether.

“Nobody’s seen lizard men in these parts for years,” he said tartly. “Anyway, their lair was much deeper in the southern part of the marsh.” He turned back to Rudi. “I meant threats from dangerous animals,” he explained.

“Predators. Crocodiles, change-cats, giant rats. The marsh is full of them. You keep an eye out.”

Rudi made an unpleasant face, but at last he swung down off his horse and waded the short stretch to the mangaroo roots. He tied his own horse next to the others, then chose the closest thing to a dry spot, high among the roots, climbed up, and settled himself. He unfastened his sword and rested the sheathed blade upon his lap. “All right,” he grumbled, glancing nervously at his surroundings, brushing away a huge ant with a quick back-sweeping motion of his hand, “but don’t take too long. If it starts getting dark, I’m going to be peeved.”

“Build a fire if you want, if you can find dry wood,” Garett told his sergeant as he passed two water skins up to Blossom and slung his own across his shoulders. Then he, too, repositioned his sword so that it hung upon his back, where it would stay reasonably dry.

“In this place?” Rudi said doubtfully, looking around. “He meant it as a joke,” Burge explained as he climbed up onto the root network beside Blossom and extended a hand down to his captain.

Blossom had taken a large knife from her belt and busied herself by hacking at three of the lowest, stoutest limbs within her reach. By the time Garett was out of the water and at her side, she had cut three lengths and stripped them of subsidiary branches and leaves to make three slender staves. She gave one each to Burge and Garett and kept one for herself. They were not stout enough for fighting, but that was not their purpose. They were to probe the water, to test the footing before them. Quicksand was just one of the dangers ahead.

Garett looked at each of his comrades in turn. Rudi sat sullenly on top of a knot of roots. Blossom waited, outwardly impassive, but, obviously to Garett, impatient to get on with what she regarded as an unpleasant journey. He turned to Burge. His half-elven friend was almost quiet, not his usual quick-tongued self. In fact, most of the smart remarks today had come from Blossom. “How are the wounds?” he asked Burge.

Burge leaned on his fresh-cut staff and peered toward the gloomy heart of the marsh. The mangaroos grew as far as any of them could see, even Burge with his elven eyesight. And as the mist thickened and the branches and leaves wove together overhead, so did the eerie twilight grow into darkness.

“I feel fine,” he assured Garett. Then he glanced at his captain and seemed to sense the true reason behind the question. “I’ve grown so used to the walls of Greyhawk,” he went on in a near whisper, “that I’d forgotten how stiflin’ they are.” He looked straight at Garett with that intense, violet-eyed gaze. “I’m glad I came.”

Garett, too, had traveled the world in his younger days and seen much of the Flanaess, many of its wonders. He, too, knew the thrill of a journey’s beginning and the joy of new places. Sometimes, Greyhawk felt like a prison, where his soul had been shut up and all his life there had been only the work time of a sentenced prisoner. In those times, he missed the travels and dreamed of his days along the Azure Sea and the adventures he had known there.

But for everyone, those times came to an end. He did not live long who lived by selling his sword. One king or master after another. Different nations, different lands. Despite all the odd customs and strange cultures, too soon they all blurred together. Eventually one had to find a place to make a bed and a hearth to light a fire each night, and honest work, too, to occupy the hands and the mind.

“I’m glad I came,” Burge repeated, half under his breath.

It was enough to snap Garett out of his brief reverie. Burge knew the dangers as well as he. It was too soon to wax romantic about the Mist Marsh.

“Save that kind of remark ’til we’re home,” Garett warned.

Cattail reeds and tall saw grass grew in thick clusters

among the mangaroo roots. Brightly colored water

lillies floated on the still water. Ivy streamed down, sometimes in slender vines, sometimes in curtains, from the high branches. Narrow beams of light speared through the leafy canopy overhead to create dazzling spots on broad, moisture-pimpled leaves, on the murky water, on the lichen-covered bark of old trees, and on the roots them-

selves.

An angry feline meow caused Garett, Blossom, and Burge to stop and glance overhead. High among the branches sat a common-looking house cat; its ears laid back, its eyes burning steadily as it watched them. An instant later, though, the air shimmered around it, and the small form became a far larger, more powerful, and far more deadly beast. Dark spots covered its tawny, muscled body. Fangs and claws gleamed. It roared, and the sound echoed through the swamp.

“A change-cat!” Burge whispered, keeping his voice low

and calm so as not to startle the creature.

“I don’t think it’s going to attack,” Garett said, leading them quietly, cautiously forward, though his eyes remained on the change-cat. “It’s just warning us away from its territory.”

“We better find this sword quick,” Blossom grumbled as she waved a small swarm of gnats away from her face. Her gaze constantly raked from side to side as she advanced. “I don’t want to be here when night falls.”

A fat brown frog sat perched on a root, watching as they approached. Suddenly, it plopped into the water. Another sprang from hiding in a floating cluster of dead leaves, flopped under the surface, and disappeared with an awkward kick. A whole series of rapid plops followed, and for a moment, the marsh was quiet again.

A snake rippled through the water not ten feet ahead of the watchmen, and they paused, motionless, until it disappeared under another cluster of mangaroo roots. Carefully, Garett followed it. They had to climb that root cluster to continue on. Garett made it out of the water and to the top first. He reached down to help Blossom out, and they both helped Burge.

When they all were out of the water, and there was no sign of the snake, Garett glanced up and quickly cringed. Not more than a foot above his head, a large web glistened between two low-hanging limbs. Its hairy occupant, nearly the size of his fist, slept impassively at the center, lulled by the gentle breeze that rocked the web. Garett glared at it from a crouch, his heart hammering.

In a few moments, they were over the root cluster and back in the water again, moving toward the next cluster. The mangaroos were beginning to thin, though. The tallest trunks and the most massive root clusters were farther and farther apart. They still dominated the marsh, but they were less dense. The party mounted a small rise of land, trampling a patch of tiny white flowers that had taken root in the brown mud, and rested.

“Gods!” Blossom cried suddenly, dropping her staff and staring at the back of her right hand in horror. A black leech, as long as one of her fingers, clung to her skin. She snatched at its mottled body and flung it away in disgust. A red welt showed where it had been. Almost immediately, she shrieked again. “There’s one on my neck!”

“Don’t!” Burge ordered, catching her hand before she could grab at the repulsive creature. “I see it. It’s not in too deep, though. Let me.” He reached into his belt and extracted his coin purse. Opening it, he extracted another, smaller pouch and opened that. A white powder glittered within. Burge pinched some between his fingers and sprinkled it generously upon the leech’s body.

Her head tilted to let him work, Blossom still tried to watch from the corner of her eye. “Is that a magic powder?” she asked nervously.

“It is if you eat at The Tomb very often,” Burge answered with a grin as he sprinkled another pinch upon the bloodsucker. “I swear that old ore never salts anything.”

Garett searched his own body as Burge removed the slimy parasite from Blossom’s neck. He found three of them climbing his left boot and quickly brushed them away, suppressing a chill of revulsion as his skin made contact with them. Together, he and Blossom checked Burge, but the half-elf was clean, relatively speaking.

“I guess they can recognize a case of indigestion when they see it,” Blossom commented to Burge. She patted his backside lightly, trying to conceal her earlier display of fear with a veneer of humor.

“My lady, you are welcome to their fullest attention,” Burge answered in his most genteel manner as he put away his pouch of salt. “And I suspect we’ll find more of their brethren dogging our tracks as we go.”

Blossom didn’t say anything, but she rubbed a hand tentatively over the welt on her neck, and the look on her face said she wished she’d stayed with Rudi, or better yet, not come at all. “I am not having a good time,” she muttered, picking up her staff and starting bravely down into the water again.

Burge leaned close to Garett as they followed. “Do you have any idea where in the marsh this sword might be?” he asked. “Or are we just supposed to wander around looking for it?”

Garett had been asking himself a similar question for some time now. “Mordenkainen said it was at the heart of the swamp. That’s all I know.” Garett shrugged.

“The elves have a saying, you know,” Burge told him conspiratorially. “ ‘Beware of wizards bearing gifts.’

“Humans have another,” Garett said in a low voice. “ ‘Beware of elvish sayings.’

A loud slap interrupted them. Blossom frowned in disgust at the huge dead mosquito on her palm before she wiped it on her tunic.

They pushed on in silence, .limbing knots of mangaroo roots, wading water and mud, ducking vines and dangling webs, on constant alert for snakes. Overhead, colorfully feathered birds darted back and forth among the rich foliage, filling the air with their calls and chitterings.

Garett stopped suddenly, motioning for his companions to do the same. A thick patch of cattail reeds grew directly in their path, and among the stalks a pair of large eyes gleamed redly, watching them. A sharp warning hiss from the unseen creature caused the two men to reach for their swords. Blossom brought her staff into both hands and balanced it in a defensive grip. For a tense moment, the standoff continued. Then an immense brown-furred rat swam out of the reeds, waddled up onto a knot of roots, and climbed the trunk of a mangaroo, where it perched on the lowest branch and hissed at them again.