Rhistmaege

Wanderings

"Damn Rakku! Again!" called Wulfgen, who walked abreast of Dovi.

Dovi covered his nose.

Longbeard turned his head and flashed a devilish grin.

He freaking revels in blanketing us with it. Wonder what type of rodent died up there?

The rest of the week's travel had been more of the same. Life on the road with the Monster, Longbeard, Wulfgen and Magnillion had been difficult to say the least. These were not the traveling companions he would ever have chosen willingly. At least they seemed to be making good time.

They hadn't found Rabby. They did almost find trouble. Luckily, Longbeard eyed the pack of squat, square-jawed creatures gutting a twelve point buck. Stekenkag. They watched as long teeth tore into venison with savage abandon. Forked tongues flicked and licked at blood splattered fingers and palms. After they'd eaten their fill, the Stekenkag raced north with a speed belying their short stature.

"Scummy Black Imps," Monti called them. "Will suck your marrow and whittle glyphs upon your bone."

"By the gods, I remember the time I saw a full Wayfrett - had to have been fifty of those wretched devils pouncing upon a merchant caravan. Swarmed over like a black plague, I tell you," said Prince Wulfgen with a shudder.

Dovi silently questioned Wulfgen's moral compass. Wonder where he watched the merchant's grim fate from? He pictured the Prince hidden away, watching the butchery with those cold blue eyes. Wulfgen wasn't one to come running in your time of need. He's all Wulfgen, all the time.

Dovi found no peace in the following days. Every swaying branch, rustling squirrel digging among the brush, and flicker of movement shook his resolve. Anxiety had unhinged him. They traveled strictly at night, sticking to winding, overgrown routes that Longbeard and his father knew well. How could a man like that live with himself? How could his father know more about this forsaken, blasphemous land than he knew about his own son? Was he capable of killing his own wife? Just how much Freeminding had he done?

After another dismal hour of trudging along the muddy banks of a narrow but swift stream, the sloping terrain turned into a midge ridden, sucking bog.

As the going turned from bad to worse, Magnillion whistled for them to stop. "Shouldn't travel this slop pit at night. There are things in Muerkenmire that should not be disturbed." He swatted at things flying in the darkness.

"We've got to keep moving. The meeting- they won't wait for us," answered the Monster.

It's always more things. More things to worry about. Dovi scanned about. I don't like the queer feel of this place.

"Nobody will care if we're late, when we arrive in pine boxes," huffed Magnillion.

"I suggest a compromise of moving forward, with a bit of care. A simple light spell will not use much Rhist and should keep the marsh creatures away," said Wulfgen.

"Might as well whisper sweet nothings to things attracted by the light. Bah, only a fool would bring attention here. Warning you. I've seen what cycles through here," warned Rakku.

"Skirt our way around then?" proposed Wulfgen.

"Not without adding three days, if we're lucky. Five if things go wrong," said Monti, as he inched behind Dovi. "What do you think Dovinicus?" asked Monti. He put a hand on his son's narrow shoulder.

Dovi cringed at the touch. His mind whirled as everyone turned to face him. Thank the gods they can barely see my face. Dovi took a deep breath and calmed himself. "I'm not sure, but I-I think if Magnillion has enough Rhist left to use if-if something attacks, we should chance the light." Please let them think I'm not an idiot.

Longbeard turned away and spit into the darkness.

"Magnillion?" asked Monti.

"Enough for a small skirmish, but that's all. Anything too powerful and we'll be relying on your arm." The old man seemed ready to topple over with the added pressure upon him. "I can only do so much. Do not put your hopes in my arthritic hands."

Wulfgen patted Magnillion on the back. "This one is too modest. I've seen what he can do with just a drop of Rhist. Bring the light and let's hurry through this miserable place."

"Arendal Tapor," whispered Magnillion. A small flame appeared in the palm of his hand.

The illumination did not have quite the effect Dovi thought it would. Instead of banishing the oppressive gloom, the dim glow brought what hid to life. Scores of creeping, crawling things scattered away. Fist-sized gray firethrunds strummed their hundred legs in unison, slipped over slick stonestumps, then disappeared into the foot deep murk. A massive brown hooded attorcynn coiled around a banyan-strangled red maple.

Dovi carefully stepped around patches of ghost-stalked loosestrife.

"Scared of a little snake, boy? That's pickle piss compared to what's out there. I seen an ananethiss take down a full team of horse. That willow reed thin attorcynn is pudding pie compared to what hunts us. They call the ananethiss the eight widow way. Will have you stunned, torn to bits, and swallowed, all before the crap runs down the back of your knees. They're out there, slobbering over themselves to see what's at the end of your damn light," said Rakku with an edge of hard steel in his voice.

"Enough," said Monti.

Longbeard glared back at Monti and twirled the end of his beard around his finger. "I should just turn around and go back," he mumbled under his breath.

"That would not be conducive to your health," said the Monster. He pointed a threatening finger in Longbeard's direction. "I don't care much for deal backer outers, you see?"

Rakku ran wrinkled hands across a puckered white line high upon his forehead. "Let's be done with this."

They wasted no time and picked their way across crumbling red cedar and downed black ash, skipped atop rounded milky waterstone, then waded through calf-high clumps of yellow ryegrass. Wood frogs ballooned in a croaking symphonic melody.

Dovi followed the faint impressions left by Longbeard's passing steps. It was a tough, slow slog. Beady eyes in the dark frazzled the hairs upon his neck. Harmless lichenwick flies flitted towards them, drawn by Magnillion's bobbing light. Strange guttural clicks and clacks, and wispy huffs of beating wings brought images of merwiccan pincer beetles and great-winged Drakkenmeire to his overactive mind. Somehow turning the pages in Rabby's Knight's Compendium of Carnivorous Creatures did not seem quite so fascinating anymore. Please let Rabby be okay. If there is any good left in this world, please let it fall in his path.

"Do we know where we're going?" asked Wulfgen to nobody in particular for the tenth time this past hour. The prince had clearly lost his patience with this endeavor, complaining about the red welts upon his neck and arms, and scratching his powdery white skin until it bled.

"Better watch those wounds m'lord. Bloodmites here ain't like the red specks your castle poulterer picks off before baking you a chicken pie. Bloodmites out here can grow bigger than my thumbnail. Swarm'll suck you dry till flapping skin over bone," said Rakku.

"Chicken pie? What's a chicken pie?" replied Wulfgen with a laugh. "Must be a country dish." He shrugged his shoulders at Magnillion and laughed again.

"I'll bake you-" started Longbeard, but a hand gesture from Monti cut him off mid-sentence.

"Silence. Something is about," said Monti. He held up an open hand and turned an ear northeast.

Dovi held his breath and listened. Heads swiveled slowly, casting out for any inkling of sound. The air grew foul with a festering flavor. Sulfury bitterness seeped onto Dovi's tongue, but he dared not reach up to wipe the wretched taste away.

When the stillness became so still that Dovi thought he could bear it no longer, a whirling, whooshing disturbance shattered the solitude. He caught the slightest glimpse of a blurring grayness streaking down from a treetop off to his left, just before something landed between his feet with a sucking splash.

There, sticking out of the bog's slop, embedded crossguard deep, was a small silver dagger with an 'M' engraved on the pommel. Rabby!