The Coastal Kingdoms of Olvion: Book Two of The Chronicles of Olvion (33 page)

Taggart and Jo-Dal strolled the edges of the swamp together.  The buzzing of bugs and the “threep-threep” sound of the toad-like amphibians was uncommonly loud.

“What is that?”  Jo-Dal suddenly pointed into the swamp.  Taggart looked and was just able to see an object sliding into the water.  “It was as large as a man.”  

Taggart examined the surface of the swamp water for a few minutes.  Seeing nothing more they resumed their walk.

“I doubt we’ll ever know what it was, but I recall Fauwler’s admonishments regarding the dangers that this swamp contains.  We would be wise to make our people aware of the perils.”

Taggart and Jo-Dal completed their examination of the swamp edges and separated to each go to where their people were gathered.  Taggart had just wiggled into his bed roll when a blood-chilling scream woke the camp.  Leaping up, Taggart grabbed his mace because it was the closest weapon to him. 

He now ran toward the sound of the scream.  Other, weaker shrieks were coming from the direction of the swamp over by the area that was populated by the Aspell warriors.  Taggart saw water flying and heard splashing as another terrified scream tore the night.

Ahead he saw several figures.  Two were people.  Three or four more were…something else.  As he drew closer Taggart saw, with horror, that the other figures were large reptiles.  They looked to him to be very similar to Earth alligators or crocodiles, but these creatures stood on their rear legs and used their arms and hands like humans.  Three of them had hold of a bloody and screaming female warrior and were trying to drag her further out into the swamp.  A single male warrior had grabbed her under the shoulders and was pulling her back, trying to keep her from being taken.  He was losing ground rapidly as the weight of the creatures was far greater.

Taggart splashed into the water.  He reached the two struggling humans and saw that two of the monsters had hold of the woman using their hands, but a third had latched onto her leg with its long reptilian mouth.  Blood was spurting from the wound.

Taggart first tried to help the other warrior to pull her free, but this action caused the jagged teeth in the mouth of the one creature to tear the woman’s leg more.  Her frantic screams of pain made him decide on another course of action.  Raising his mace he waded past the warriors and smashed it into the shoulder of the brute which held the woman in its mouth.  The reptile shuddered, but did not let go.  Remembering Fauwler’s advice regarding the creature’s only weakness, he let the mace hang from the wrist strap and grabbed both of the animal’s jaws in his hands.  Grunting with the effort, Taggart pulled on the upper jaw and pushed on the lower.  The strength of the monster was surprising, but the mouth slowly began to open.  The teeth finally disengaged from the woman’s flesh and now Taggart held the twisting and flailing beast at arm’s length.  He pulled the animal in close to his chest and continued the pressure on its jaws.  The flailing increased as the jaws grew farther apart.  Finally, with a bestial scream and a Herculean effort, the bones and ligaments of the jaws snapped and parted.  The creature wiggled a few more times then fell slack.  Taggart dropped the carcass and turned to the other beasts.

With the weight of the one reptile removed, the warrior who held his bleeding fellow soldier was able to back up a few steps towards the bank.  The other two creatures still had hold with their human-like hands and were attempting to drag her away from the warrior.  Taggart heard others rushing to their aid. 

He waded deeper out and raised the mace again.  One of the upright-walking crocs released the girl and turned his attention to Taggart.  Just before he was able to land his weapon the beast streaked toward him with its wide jaws open.  Taggart was just able to pull his head back as the sharp toothed maw snapped shut, but the monster now grabbed at him with both of his clawed hands.  Taggart was reminded of movies he’d seen back on Earth of velociraptors stalking and attacking humans.  These beasts moved in much the same way though they resembled crocodiles more than those dinosaurs.  This monster now was digging his claws into Taggart’s back, trying to drag him closer to that lethal mouth.

Several warriors now came splashing into the swamp over by where the lone male was still struggling to keep his sister warrior from being dragged away.  The newly arrived soldiers attacked the animal that was still holding the woman.  Spears, swords and javelins were plunged into the croc’s body, all with little immediate result.  The beast still pulled at the woman even though its efforts were diminishing.

“Stand back,” a woman’s voice yelled.

The others backed away, and an arrow struck the croc just above the left eye.  The shaft sank deeply.  Another arrow struck immediately thereafter.  The clawed hands released the wounded woman, and the creature slid limply backward and floated on the water.

Taggart was now locked in a desperate battle with the last croc.  He had successfully dodged several chomps of the beast’s elongated mouth and had now worked his way behind it and away from that many-toothed danger.  He was able to wrap one arm around the monster’s neck and the other around a shoulder.  As the brute thrashed and struggled he brought to bear all of his Earth-earned strength.  Screaming with the effort he leaned back to lift the croc off of its feet and squeezed until he heard something snap.  The croc thrashed twice then went slack in his arms.  Taggart lowered it to the water then delivered three powerful punches to its head just to make certain it posed no further danger.  Then he tossed it behind him and searched the shallow waters until he found his mace.  He’d dropped it in the struggle.

Many gathered warriors watched him with awe as he emerged from the water, amazed by his demonstration of strength.  Others were gathered about the now comatose woman who was now laid on the sand well away from the water.  Taggart strode up to the knot of people trying to save her life.  One of the healers they’d brought with them was working on her, tying off the massive and gaping wound to her leg.  Another was tending to the other, smaller injuries.

For the first time Taggart saw that the young male warrior who had first come to her aid and was solely responsible for keeping her from being dragged away into the swamp was Geraar.  He sat now on the sand gulping air.  He also had multiple injuries, but they were not to the extent of the unfortunate woman.

Taggart knelt before him.  “Are you all right?”

Geraar seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes at first.  When he finally got himself under control he nodded.  “I’m good.”  He nodded to the woman who was motionless on the sand.  “I was on watch.  I saw her walk to the water’s edge and wash her hands.  They just exploded from the swamp and grabbed her.  One moment there was nothing in the water then they were all over her.  I tried to pull her back but…they were so strong.”

Taggart put a hand on his shoulder.  “You did well, Warrior.  If she lives, she will owe her life to you.”

She didn’t.  She passed away halfway through the night from shock and blood loss.  They buried her in the grassy part of the foothills far from the water before moving on the next morning.

***

The assault force broke themselves up into groups of one hundred and entered the swamp in shifts.  Taggart and the other commanders felt they could best keep control over smaller groups and prevent some of their number from wandering away and getting lost or attacked by swamp animals.  The insects were not nearly as bad as they had been the night before.  As they got deeper into the swamp the smell of rotting vegetation assaulted their sense of smell.  The cheerful bright sunshine seemed out of place with their present circumstances.

Taggart took the first group with Toria by his side.  They waded into the thickly-weeded water with him in front.  His presence gave courage to those who followed him.  The story of him breaking the back of one of the swamp-crocs with his bare hands had circulated through the camp.  They had no way of knowing for certain, but it seemed that the lethal creatures emerged only at night.  The sentries reported seeing them splashing through the shallows all through the night, but they seemed to go away when the sun came up.

Geraar waded a few paces behind Taggart.  Toria was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the morning.  She had tried but was unsuccessful at getting Geraar’s kiss out of her mind.  She had been taken completely by surprise.  She knew she would eventually have to discuss the meaning of his actions, but, for the present, she was having trouble deciding just how she felt.  She admitted to herself that she found him attractive, but that seemed inconsequential to her.  There were many among this group that she regarded as attractive, chief among them the young cavalry officer, Whitt.  The youth had given her a short ride on his charon and had made it clear that he was interested in her.  Geraar had shown enormous courage the night before, however, and Toria had always admired that trait.  She looked back at the young warrior.  He was constantly searching the waters around the group, on the lookout for attacks from the swamp-crocs and any other dangerous swamp inhabitants.  The bandages from his injuries to one of his hands had come loose and he was forced to constantly re-wrap it as they slogged through the water.  Toria turned to Taggart.

“Tag, how did Geraar get hurt last night.”

The big man gave her an irritating, knowing smile.  “Interesting to hear that you are concerned.  He was on watch and saw that woman attacked.  He raised the alarm and plunged into the water after her to keep those reptiles from dragging her off into the swamp.  Those injuries are from the claws of those creatures trying to pull her away from him.”

She held her head down as if examining the water while she digested that information.  Then she turned to him again.  “I never heard the story of how you two first met.  I asked him about it that first night we stopped at the charon ranch.  He wouldn’t say much about it.”

Another knowing smile.  Toria wished he was smaller so she could smack him. 

“During the final battle of the Great War I was among the infantry.  When the fight eventually came down to shield-to-shield combat I saw a break develop in one of our lines.  It took me a while to push my way to it, and I remember wondering why more of the enemy was not getting through.  When I got to the front line I saw Geraar.  He had an old, pitted sword and was standing in the middle of the breach striking down every Grey who tried to get through.  It was an impressive display of strength and courage.  His actions definitely saved many lives.  I wanted to find him after the battle, but I was in the clinic for a long time, and no one could identify him from just my description.  When we met at the charon ranch we recognized each other.”

Toria looked over her shoulder at Geraar again.  He was trying to secure the loose bandage with one hand while carrying his spear with the other.  Every time he would try to tuck it away it quickly came loose again and would flutter in the breeze.

She looked at Taggart again.  “I’ll be right back, looks like he needs help with that bandage.”

Yet another irritating smile.  “Yes, by all means lend assistance to the young warrior.”

Toria did not trust herself to respond, but she slowed her walk and let Geraar catch up to her.  Without any words being exchanged she grabbed his arm and began re-wrapping the bandage. 

An hour after the sun had reached its zenith Taggart spied a large patch of dry land and led his group to it.  “Rest up and get some food.  If anyone has injuries make certain they are well dressed.  We don’t want any bleeding wounds while in the water.”

The group dispersed, and most found a place to sit while they dug food out of their battle packs.  Taggart assigned three warriors to sentry duty, and he took one station himself.  He stood watching the swamp for any signs of danger.  He did see swirls in the water here and there as if something was below the surface but never more than that.  The shore around the shallows was densely populated with frog-like amphibians, large crawling insects and a type of centipede that was over a foot in length.

When Taggart saw Jo-Dal and his group approaching he roused his people and they all started back into the swamp.  He pointed to the patch of dry land to make certain Jo-Dal did not miss it.  The warrior from Aspell signaled that he had seen it and began leading his people to it.

Taggart was encouraged by the discovery of the dry land.  His biggest fear was that they would be caught out in the open swamp when night fell.  If that happened they could only depend on their numbers to protect them from attacks by the swamp-crocs.  He wondered what new dangers they would encounter as they slogged deeper into the swamp.

***

Dwan sat on a wooden bench that had been bolted to the floor in the cellar dungeon where they had been for several days.  Twice a day one of the other healers would inspect and clean the welts on her back.  Though painful, the amount of broken skin was minimal, and there appeared to be no risk of infection.  The women were fed once a day, and Dwan made certain that the weakest among them were fed first.  Dayel challenged her authority on those occasions, but Dwan’s courage and strong personality was enough to keep her from going any further than making verbal comments.

It was still early morning when they heard the door above them open and feet on the worn wooden stairs.  Morlee led two other men into the cellar.  The other two were both short, one slender the other portly.  They were dressed in the thick canvas pantaloons that these people seemed to favor with blousy shirts tucked in.