Lord of the Rose

CHAPTER TWENTY — FOUR

F rom the lip of the escarpment, looking down into the wide, flat river valley formed by the junction of the Upper Vingaard and Kaolyn Rivers, the Brackens presented a depressing vista. The forested swamp sprawled across the sodden lowlands in a tangle of hummocks, marshes, fetid ponds and sluggish streams, all broken by dense copses of moss-draped trees that rose from the mist like gaunt guardians. The hum of mosquitoes was omnipresent, an audible drone across the whole territory. Eerie birdcalls echoed.

The four travelers stood on the rim of the grassy bluff some fifty feet above the swamp and swatted at a few of the buzzing insects who rose to greet them, knowing that the pests would be far more numerous once they climbed down the steep hillside.

The Brackens extended as far as they could see in either direction. The shiny open water marking the main channel of the Upper Vingaard was just barely visible, three or four miles away. The escarpment extended along the entire length of the river valley, and the tangled, forbidding swamp was a constant barrier between the base of the bluff and the river. The distant trail of the plains road and the ford the gnomes-and many travelers-had used was far away, below the place where the two rivers merged.

“Do we have to go in there?” Dram asked, scowling.

“We came this far,” Jaymes drawled, scratching his chin. “Why not see things through to the main event?”

“The white lady said Salty Pete might still be alive in there?” Carbo asked dubiously. “How can she know such things? We saw him get dragged off by the big black draco!”

“The White Lady told me she’d heard of a gnome held captive in there,” the dwarf said bluntly. “She didn’t know his name-but thought it might be your brother. Said he’s been there for a couple of years. The timing is about right.”

“Yeah. We lost Pete two years ago,” Sulfie said hopefully.

“I’ve learned to trust her,” Jaymes said with a shrug. “She’s surprised me more than once.” He glanced at the sun, which had cleared the eastern horizon. “We should get moving-if we’re fast, and lucky, we might be in and out of there before sunset.”

By now, the four travelers were fit, well fed, and reasonably well-rested. After leaving the Vingaard Range, they had spent a few weeks evading the patrols of knights that rode vigilantly across the plains. Traveling by darkness and finding hiding places-a herdsman’s hut, a clump of brambles, streamside caves-before each dawn, they made their way eastward and south from the Vingaard Mountains down to the river of the same name. Then they had followed the flow south until they reached this broad convergence.

The two gnomes remembered the route they had followed when they departed Dungarden, and now they found themselves in the same fateful area. Their goal lay before them, in all its unappetizing sprawl and decay. Even the smells were daunting-the stench was more than just the miasma of rot and stagnancy. There was a metallic, smoky overlay to the odor that bespoke of something more sinister than death.

“The ford we crossed is over there, to the left,” Carbo noted. “We didn’t go into this swampy stuff when we came from Dungarden. The wagon would have sunk right down, without a decent track, you know, but the road goes past the swamp, not into it.” He mopped his bald pate with a grimy rag, shaking his head at the ugly memories.

“Tell us about the attack,” the warrior said.

“Well, there’s the road. You see it coming down from the far bank? We trundled down that hill, twenty gnomes on two wagons, each pulled by two oxen. We came to where the road goes into the river there, then we crossed. It’s a good ford, shallow with a gravel bottom. Then the road comes into the woods along the edge of the swamp down there-it’s kind of built up with a stone bed, so the wagon was doing all right. That is, until the dracos attacked.”

“You keep calling them that. You mean draconians?” Dram pressed.

“Well, they made me think of draconians, but they were bigger-not dragons, but sort of like a composite of dragons and draconians. They spat acid, though, and killed the two oxen hauling the first wagon. We all raced to get into the second wagon and ran away, but Pete didn’t make it out.”

As he recounted the tale, tears glimmered in his eyes, and listening nearby, Sulfie shivered.

“Dragon spawn?” Dram guessed, shaking his head, looking at Jaymes.

“Likely,” the warrior agreed. He looked at Carbo. “Were they all black?”

“Yep,” the gnome recalled with a shudder. “They were the blackest, scariest things I ever saw! They hissed and roared, and that spit-it burned the fur and the skin right off the poor old oxen.”

“But your brother-you didn’t see him get killed?”

“No. One big draco-you called it a dragon spawn? — grabbed him up by the neck and ran off. He cried out just one time. The others came after us, and we had to flee. As soon as we got out of the trees they stopped chasing us, but Pete wasn’t making any more noise, so we concluded that he was killed.”

Sulfie spoke up, finally. “If they have Pete, then we have to go get him out of there. I’m not afraid of any big lizard!”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Carbo agreed. He went over to his sister, looked at her seriously. “Don’t be getting all hopeful. Remember what we saw.”

“Yes,” the female agreed, but she raised her chin in determination. “Remember the White Lady, too. She wouldn’t lie!” she declared, glancing at Jaymes and Dram, emphasizing that her assessment did not necessarily extend to present company.

“You guys coming too?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jaymes replied with a small nod.

Dram huffed and scowled. “Well, if Pete knows how to finish the damned compound so it can do something besides fizzle and smoke, then I’d like to hear about it. But I do hate mosquitoes.”

The human grinned. “Once the dracos start swarming, I guarantee you won’t even noticed the bugs,” he remarked.

Sulfie’s eyes were wide, but she wrapped her little arms around herself and started down the grassy bluff. The others followed and approached the moss-draped trees that marked the edge of the Brackens. The sunlight seemed to dim, and a thick, grayish haze lingered in the air, masking the brightness-though not the warmth-of the sun. If anything it was even hotter at the base of the hill, and the air was thick and steamy.

The mosquitoes were thick here too, a steady whining drone in their ears. The companions also heard birds cawing angrily to each other and a chorus of croaking frogs. A myriad of smells greeted them, none of them pleasant. The sooty, metallic stench seemed almost asphyxiating. The swamp was a green-black wall of dark, mossy trunks, vines and creepers, with thick ferns sprouting from the ground.

No obvious path presented itself, but Sulfie led the way, pushing away some vines and stepping between two ancient tree trunks. The others followed. In single file they plunged into the trees, trying to move soundlessly, surprised as the noisy frogs abruptly fell silent. The ground was wet everywhere with pools of stagnant water, and sometimes they had to hop from one gnarled tree root to the next. A large snake slithered across their path. Something bigger splashed in the water nearby, and they hurried on.

Deeper and deeper into the swamp they progressed, pushing vines out of the way, ducking under creepers, edging past hooked thorns. By the time they had advanced two dozen paces, sunlight was but a distant memory. Now they couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. The mosquitoes swarmed over them.

They came across another snake-this one a black, venomous viper that coiled menacingly and raised its wedge-shape head, hissing. Jaymes pulled Giantsmiter from the scabbard on his back and brought the huge blade down with a single chop, cutting the snake into two wriggling segments. They pressed on in the sucking mud. The warrior held his weapon upraised.

Sulfie slipped off the gnarled root of an ancient cypress, sliding into what looked like shallow pool. With a little gasp of dismay she sank to her waist and began to settle deeper. She clawed at the root, then grasped Dram’s strong hand. Grimacing, the dwarf set his feet and pulled the gnome free. She was covered in mud and nearly gagged at the leeches wriggling on her leggings-but swatted them off. Grimly she rose to her feet, nodding when the dwarf said he would take the lead.

The smells grew stronger, swamp gas rising in choking clouds as their feet disturbed long-dormant layers of rot. A stink like carrion made Jaymes gag, and he held a handkerchief across his mouth, blinking away tears as he strained to see through the murk. Still that metal-smoke scent permeated everything, growing stronger as they penetrated deeper into the Brackens.

“Hsst!” said Carbo, drawing a big sniff through his wide nostrils. “Do you smell that smell?”

Jaymes nodded, his nostrils twitching. “Yes. Smoke, but not from wood.” Indeed, the vapor smelled bitter, acrid, more like something raised from a foundry than a campfire.

“That’s Pete!” cried Sulfie. “I’d know that stink anywhere! He’s busy cooking his stuff!”

“Stuff?” Dram asked.

“Yep. We each had one kind of stuff, Pap taught us about. Like my specialty is the yellow rock.” She gestured at the dirty sack on her back, which was filled with the samples of sulfir.

Carbo nodded. “Mine is charcoal. Pete’s stuff is the strangest of all, and he was very secretive about it-we don’t really know that much about it. He was always doing funny things with fire. But I know that smell! It means he’s still alive-it has to! This way!”

The gnome made to crash through the underbrush, but Dram placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy does it,” the dwarf whispered. “The dracos are probably still alive, too.”

With visible reluctance, Carbo nodded and moved on more cautiously, soon stepping out from the trees onto a narrow, muddy path of sorts. The others emerged after him, and without hesitation Carbo started toward the direction that seemed to lead deeper into the swamp and from which the strong smell emanated.

The new trail was narrow and muddy, twisting around the larger trees, but even Jaymes had enough headroom, as the vines and low branches had disappeared.

“You thinking what I am?” asked Dram, with a glance at his human companion.

“Yes,” Jaymes said. Who-or whatever-used this path was tall enough to clear it to a height of better than six feet above the ground.

The acrid scent grew steadily thicker. After a few minutes, the path opened into a shadowy, narrow clearing. Trees draped with moss and vines enclosed the space, with a tiny patch of sky overhead. That glimpse of blue only seemed to emphasize the gloom of this fetid place.

“There!” cried Carbo, pointing toward a gaping pit in the center of the small open space. The hole in the ground was dark, lined with mud, and venting an assortment of noxious gases. Greenish vapors were visible in narrow tendrils rising from the pit and wafting through the dense air. “He’s going to be down there!”

The gnome darted toward the pit. He didn’t hear the leathery wings flapping loudly overhead, but his companions were more alert.

“Duck!” cried Sulfie, leaping forward to tackle her brother. They tumbled to the muddy ground as a shadow flashed by. A black serpent swooped past, diving from overhead, barely missing the two gnomes. The creature’s large wings flared as it alit. It was not armed with any weapon, but its claws and fangs gleamed as it crouched and eyed the two gnomes. It looked like a small dragon. Crocodilian jaws gaped to reveal a forked, thrusting tongue, and its leathery wings buzzed.

Carbo sprang to his feet. He pulled his little dagger and was about to charge the strange serpent when, once again, his sister bowled into him, knocking him to the side just before a stream of yellow liquid spurted from the monster’s maw. The two gnomes rolled away, barely avoiding the lethal strike. The reptilian creature lashed its head on its long neck, following the course of the rolling gnomes, and started forward. It was indeed dragon-like, though more like the size of a large-and winged! — alligator than a truly monstrous wyrm.

With a strangled shout, Dram charged the creature from behind. The dwarf’s axe split the spawn’s head open, and it collapsed, one wing flopping into the pool of acid left from its earlier blast. Carbo and Sulfie climbed to their feet, wide-eyed and trembling.

Jaymes had his sword in his hand and was looking up at where the dragon spawn had been lurking. He spotted a platform high up in a sturdy tree. Another black, reptilian form crouched there with slitted eyes-then the second dragon spawn leaped at him, spitting acid. He twisted away so that only a few drops landed on his cape and trousers, foaming on the woolen cloth.

The spawn landed a few feet away, hissing and flapping in menace. Glowering, Jaymes twisted the hilt of the sword in his hands. Immediately the weapon blazed to life, blue flames running up and down its keen steel edge. The dragon spawn recoiled, rearing onto its hind legs-but its reaction was too slow. With twin slashes, the warrior gashed its breast, then cut its head from its lashing neck. He stepped on the acid that hissed and bubbled on the ground but quickly wiped his boots on some ferns. The acid ate away at the plants, spewing foul gas as it soaked into the dirt.

Both spawn bled greenish, viscous blood from their wounds. Jaymes scanned the treetops. The swamp was utterly silent-no longer were the birds cawing and frogs croaking. For the moment, there was no sign of another threat.

“Quick-into the pit!” whispered Dram. “Get out of sight!”

He uncoiled his rope and tied it to a tree, tossing the other end across the mud and into a hole nearby the others had not noticed. It looked to be about thirty feet deep. Carbo descended quickly, hand over hand, followed by Sulfie, and Jaymes. They all scaled downward until their feet struck the bottom of a muddy chamber. Dram came last.

Enough daylight filtered down for Jaymes to make out several tunnels branching outward from this round subterranean lair. The air smelled terrible, and they had to strain not to choke or cough, blinking watery eyes, covering their noses as best they could. The human found that if he bent, he could breath a little easier-the worst of the vapors seemed to rise toward the damp and dripping ceiling, flowing up and out the vent hole.

“Does this smell like your brother too?” Dram asked.

“Yep. Follow the stink,” Carbo urged. “I can’t see!”

Jaymes drew the sword he had sheathed during the descent, and once again flames flickered along the blade. The blue light was faint but enough for them to make out a few details. The chamber showed signs of crude excavation, as if animals had burrowed it out of the soft dirt. There were no shoring timbers supporting the ceiling or arching above the tunnel mouths for four small passages leading deeper.

“Over here,” Sulfie said, sniffing at one of the passages. “Pete’s over here, somewhere!”

They moved into the passage that boasted the worst stink, straining to see in the murk. The flickering sword helped a little. At least the side passage had a high enough ceiling that even Jaymes could walk upright. Roots and tendrils dangling down looked, in the blue illumination, like furry, wriggling tentacles, and they eyed these warily as they progressed.

Shortly they came to a fork, where the wide passage began a gradual descent and a smaller corridor continued on another level. The two gnomes sniffed carefully but could not reach a consensus.

“Might as well try the wide one,” Dram suggested. “It gets more use, seems like.”

Jaymes took the lead, holding the sword at his shoulder so the others could see better. The floor was slimy with rivulets of water. With each forward step the path seemed to get steeper, and Jaymes began to slip and slide.

The warrior paused, squinting ahead.

“Unless Salty Pete has grown gills, this is the wrong way,” he declared. “There’s more and more water down there, filling the whole tunnel. Looks like this might be an underwater bolt-hole.”

“No gills-so let’s try the other way,” Sulfie said. Dram extended a hand to help the warrior back up the steep, slick slope. Soon they reached the previous juncture and this time took the narrower corridor.

They had not gone far before they spotted the glow of firelight ahead, spilling into the corridor from a large room off to a side. Jaymes doused the sword-fire, and they all crept forward.

They came to a chamber that looked like a crude blacksmith’s shop, with a mound of coals glowing in a huge pit and several cluttered benches along the far wall. A small figure bustled about, tossing logs onto the fire, then running back to stir something in a large cauldron.

“Pete!” shouted Sulfie, rushing forward.

The gnome looked up, gaping in surprise, then wrapped his arms around his sister and brother in a frantic hug. He was bearded like Carbo, though with a shock of graying hair where his brother was bald.

“No! Yes! You guys!” he declared. “Wow-I can’t believe it! After all this time. Have I got a story to tell you! You’d never believe-” He paused, looking around in confusion. “Wait,” he said. “How come Sheedra let you in here?”

“Who’s Sheedra?” Dram asked.

A slithering figure with dark scales, invisible in the shadows, slid past the doorway. Something huge and black.

Jaymes spun, his sword in his hands, but he was too late. A large, gray rock tumbled into place, blocking the doorway as neatly as a cork in a bottle.

They were trapped.