Farad branched out in a long and wide swamp.
Leyden urged his comrades to dismount their horses and to pull them along carefully while watching their every step. Eilee and Brennan were scared, Yeera was focused, Brennan and Yeera wore their emotions most visibly.
"Just be careful," Leyden whispered because he wasn't sure who was listening. Perhaps the faces he thought he saw in the water.
There was movement, it wasn't loud, but it was enough for them all to become aware of it. At first they wrote it off, of course there would be things in the bog other than themselves, frogs, toads. It was something else, as Brennan saw first. He stopped, suddenly, as if he'd just tripped a trap wire. Leyden noticed but when he tried to go back to help, Yeera put a hand into his chest, staying him, he wondered if she knew what it was that was tormenting the boy but didn't ask her outright.
There was fear in Brennan's eyes and his horse was whinnying with anxiety. He looked to the others for help, but none of them moved, none of them wanted to, and he couldn't. Rings moved outward from Brennan's form, like he'd been fixed there for all time and the swamp life had lived and built around him. Then the water within the ring bubbled, he asked Leyden to help him with a stare but then the ground underneath him opened. He fell into the water below with his horse that didn't even get a full cry out. Leyden's heart raced as his eyes grew wide. Dark figures sprouted up all around them with great force and Leyden thought he might die of shock.
"Muskeegi!" He noticed correctly, but at first, his mind didn't tell him where to go.
They lost their horses first, Leyden drew his sword, "after the horses!" He knew they were the most important thing now, there was nothing that could be done for Brennan, he'd already drowned, there was no doubt about it.
More miniature geysers sprouted up around them bringing more muskeegi as they made a run for the other end of the bog. When the creatures were confident in their numbers they gave chase. When Leyden was sure he was going to reach safety, one sprouted up right before him and knocked him down. He'd seen them before, they'd roamed close to the capital once and he'd ridden with Erimon to dispel them, but he hadn't seen one clearly until one was right before him in the bog. They were creatures with features difficult to make out, they seemed to have heads and nothing else, what looked like long robes covered everything from the neck down, and their robes were soaking wet and looked like they were made of seaweed. They had eyes of black on the sides of their heads, their mouths were massive and circular and took up most of the space where a nose would be on a human face. Their mouths sealed shut and opened again as they drew breath, teeth ringed the mouths, when they drew breath, gill slits could bee seen contracting. They could dry lakes just by inhaling the water. Leyden rose and engaged the one right before him while Yeera and Eilee tried to catch up.
The creature extended arms from under its robe, they were scaly, hardened, and deflected the swings of his blade. Eilee and Yeera rushed past the Muskeegi, distracting the one Leyden was fighting, closest to the edge, in its moment of distraction, Leyden thrust his sword into the mouth and it cried out something hideous and horrific, like the sound of a child drowning. He thought he had beaten it but then felt his sword and arm getting pulled in as if by a strong current in the sea, Leyden groaned as his arm entered the mouth, it took all his will to remove the blade and he swung a little off balance and decapitated the beast. Killing it felt good, it was the kind of kill that energized him rather than giving him pause, the creature's brethren closed in. Yeera helped Leyden onto solid ground again. In a brief moment of pause to regain control of their breathing, they heard the screeching of birds. Eagles attacked the Muskeegi, huge and grand birds that gave Leyden's smaller squad time to escape into the trees beyond the swamp.
--
Sandril chased fish in the shallow water of the Farad.
"I'm from Ban Sol," Cara said.
Morrigan had divulged much of her past in their first meeting and had thought it only fair for Cara to talk about herself next.
"What's it like there?"
"The days are longer. There's a legend that says a necromancer manipulated the rising and setting of the sun to keep his wife from turning into a werewolf in the moonlight. Didn't make it all the way but got pretty far I guess."
"Are there many magical people there?"
"Oh yes, witches, sorcerers. Probably because of the high elven population."
"We don't have many people like that here. Only ones I know of are at the college."
"You have healers don't you? They're magical."
"Well yes, but they're ordered to every hold by the Empirical Council. I think anyway."
"Ban Sol is very far away," Cara continued, "took me nearly a year to reach Dim-Eden. Might be why there aren't more mages here, Dim-Eden is so close to not even being in the Empire. It's on like, the very edge of the map."
"And you're sure you don't have any powers?" Morrigan asked, she sounded hopeful, like she really wanted to see something. "Your parents don't have any?"
"I think my parents just sent me away so I wouldn't marry Oskar."
"Oskar? Who was he?"
Cara grinned to a fond memory, "a pirate."
"You were going to marry a pirate?"
"I met him when I was a few years younger than you. We were both in our rebellious phase, only difference is he never grew out of it. Oh, I loved him. He said I was the most beautiful woman in the world."
"I take it you didn't go willingly? When your parents said they were sending you off?"
"I was a little more willing to go when he left. He asked me to come with him, but, that life is not for me. He said his Captain was taking them beyond the corners of the map, but a week after he left, there was a storm. Most said the ship now rests at the bottom of the northern Uahdi Sea."
"Maybe he made it," Morrigan said, because it seemed like the most polite thing to say.
"Maybe," Cara shrugged. "In any case, he's in my past now. Studying is my life now. Not chasing handsome men. What do you think of the Prince? He's quite handsome."
"He's an oaf," Morrigan said before she could even think about it.
Cara laughed, "doesn't mean he's still not handsome. I've heard rumors he's bedding a stable hand anyway though so I guess he's taken. Maybe I could conjure up a spell of some sort to get him into my bed."
Morrigan laughed, though she'd never really thought about romance, there had been boys in her past who she was fond of, but with all that had happened to her it was frequently the last thing on her mind.
"Thought you said you were hopeless at magic."
"I never said hopeless," Cara pointed out. "During the voyage the whole crew on the ship fell ill, Captain among them. Remarkably I was the only one untouched by the affliction. I don't know... exactly what I did, I tended to them, gave them common herbs and tried to keep them calm. Most made quick recoveries."
"Did you bed them?" Morrigan had never made a joke like that before and was nervous how it would go over, Cara laughed, she didn't roll on the ground holding her sides or anything but she laughed, then her mood dimmed.
"There was one girl, six years old. Her fever never came down. I couldn't save them all..."
Cara's head hung heavily, Morrigan felt bad about her joke but decided to occupy her mind with something other than regret.
"Maybe you're a healer."
"If I have any kind of power, I hope it's that," Cara said, nodding, some of the vibrancy returning to her face.
They walked silently for a time, watching Sandril try to catch jumping fish to no avail. Cara glanced at Morrigan's short sword moving with her.
"Are you good with it?"
Morrigan noticed what her eyes were on. "My father has always thought so."
"That's good because I've never brandished so much as a kitchen knife. Is the dog at least vicious?"
"Ehhh, I'm not so sure how Sandril would do in a fight."
Sandril dove underwater and after a moment or two of bubbling he emerged holding his head high and proud with a fish dangling between his teeth.
They made camp and ate the fish Sandril had caught. There were a few others too, but they had been caught by Morrigan mostly. Cara had wrangled one and was as proud as Sandril. The meal was actually filling. Bits of meat were given to Sandril by both of them and each time he figured he should've had more.
"I like him," Cara smiled as Sandril ate noisily. He wasn't a thin dog, yet he ate every meal like Morrigan had been starving him.
Morrigan couldn't help but smile too, Sandril had always been her closest friend. She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye and looked to Siladrin. Indeed she saw something that turned her gaze vehement. Cara took notice too, of the moving thing in and out of the rain clouds. It was hard to tell if it was a dragon or not from such a distance, it could've been a bunch of the eagles, maybe harkins, though harkins at the mountain would be cause for concern.
"Is it one of them?" Cara asked. She looked frightened but awe-inspired, perhaps there wasn't much difference in how the two emotions were displayed.
"Maybe," Morrigan nodded.
The creature kept moving in and out of the clouds, they wondered what it was doing, perhaps it was trying to convey something, perhaps it was scaring them on purpose.
--
Prince Larian saw the dragon too, from the top step just outside the castle door.
"What is it?" He heard a guard say with a trembling voice. If it was taunting them it seemed to be working.
Another guard approached, it was the captain of the guard, Ronson Caladin. Captain Caladin was looked upon favorably by his parents, he was a man who did not crave attention, he carried out his work then went home to his family. He was a strong man, almost completely gray but Larian certainly had no desire to test his mettle against him.
"Sir," Ronson bowed.
"What is it?" Larian asked, he was still almost completely focused on the speck above Siladrin. It was scary because they didn't know what it was, and their minds went through the worst possible scenarios.
"Theft," Ronson said brightly. "Somebody has stolen from the castle kitchen."
Larian made eye contact with the man finally. "Doesn't that reflect poorly on you?"
"No, Lord, it reflects poorly on the men I hired to guard the kitchen."
Larian nodded, he had a point. "Do you have him in custody?"
"Yes, he tried to flee east but didn't get far before we found him."
Larian nodded, then his eyes drifted again. He almost thought that if he ignored the problem it would go away, but Ronson didn't, he had to wait for some kind of order. The Prince sighed.
"Very well, Captain, bring the prisoner to me here and I will judge him."
Ronson bowed, "I will fetch him from the dungeon personally."
When the Captain was gone, Larian rolled his neck a few times and yawned. His jaw ached.
It was customary for petty crime to be judged at the top of the castle steps. Larger trials were held inside, but Erimon had grown fond of beheading the ones convicted guilty and rolling their heads down the steps. It was a spectacle, a display of power and while it made criminals think twice, because nobody wanted to be on their knees on the top step, it didn't mean nobody else ended up there after the first instance.
Larian did not feel powerful standing there with the middle aged man on his knees already begging for mercy a few feet away from him. The man was quivering from fear, and it seemed at least possible his heart would give out before the trial began. The only man close to him was Ronson, though he met Amlin's eyes at the bottom of the grand staircase. She was looking without much emotion, she wanted to see what he would do without trying too much to sway him.
"What is your name?" Larian finally began and the clamoring below ceased.
The balding man wretched, Larian looked away scrunching up his face, hoping he wouldn't vomit. It was windy and the stench would carry. Larian knelt down in front of the man and lifted his chin up. It was a gesture that surprised many. Erimon had never done such a thing, it was important to maintain the roles of judge and judged, like mortals before the gods, the mortals were specks and god was the sky.
"I only want your name," Larian said.
There was nothing threatening about Larian's tone, and his demeanor actually went a long way to calm Syril, the man divulged his name as Syril through stammering.
"Do you have a wife? Kids?" It was Larian's way of sensing the man's intent, maybe he was from the slums, the part of the city nobody ever went to. Maybe he'd been starving.
Syril was shaking so much still he had to nod with grandeur to distinguish between already occurring movements.
"Wife, and two boys, Lord."
Larian let go of him but didn't rise, he remained kneeling. Syril let his head hang, deeming himself unworthy to look upon such a man as the Prince.
"Can you tell us what you stole?"
'Us' was a word Syril wished Larian hadn't used, he had succeeded in making it a conversation, and the reminder that there was an audience made his heart race again.
"It was uh... A... A bottle of wine, sir."
Tears came with the confession. Larian was surprised something so expensive had been his target, he'd painted the man as the type to steal an apple so his son wouldn't die that night.
"You know that stealing from the castle is grounds for execution?" He knew that Syril knew, and the shaking didn't change much. Larian hadn't yet thought of a punishment and he wanted to remind Syril that all options were on the table. He'd have Ronson do the beheading, the idea of it nearly made him wretch like Syril.
Syril lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the Prince's legs. Ronson reached for his sword but Larian waved him off.
"Please sir!" Syril sounded close to manic. "The guard at the side door was asleep! My wife! This is our twentieth year together! I wanted to give her something other than a flagon of goat's milk!"
Larian let him cry a bit more. He felt compassion for the man, he had spent time in the poor sectors of town. One thing he didn't admire about his mother was that she didn't do more to help them, he knew his father would always be a lost cause in that regard.
"The laws put in place by my father must be upheld." He sounded like somebody else when he said it, when he realized how it had sounded the first person he looked to was Amlin, she looked concerned. He almost forgot Syril was there.
"I throw myself at your mercy!" He had reached the point in his weeping where his throat was so dry no sound was coming out.
Larian offered his hand, he had come back to reality. It took Syril a moment to realize what was happening and his head slowly rose. He took the Prince's hand with hesitation. The Acting King helped the poor fool up and patted him on the shoulder.
"Luckily for you, my father isn't here."
A smile came to Syril's face but he didn't stop dryly weeping. He tried to embrace the King but he backed away.
"I'm not letting you off completely though."
Syril realized he had overreacted.
"My ruling, Syril is that you spend your anniversary in the dugneon. One night in prison."
Syril was still very happy, he slouched down Larian's form and kissed one of the many rings he was wearing a little too affectionately. Larian finally shook his hand away, laughing a bit, he felt like patting the man on the head but thought that may demean him more than he'd already demeaned himself.
"So merciful and firm a ruler you are and will be! Thank you!"
Larian nodded at Captain Caladin and he stepped forward and took Syril into custody, Syril held Larian's attention all the way down the steps, his head still on his shoulders.
"Such a just and firm ruler! You have my eternal gratitude! Thank you! Bless you!"
Amlin was smiling, Larian laughed and shook his head as he went into the castle.
Amlin had followed him to his quarters, and had said nothing before kissing him to gague his interest. He could not resist the excitement of a forbidden encounter in such a royal place, and still heated from the public judgement, he relaxed into her kiss and they tore at each other's clothes. He felt animal, wild, and they moved about the room never staying in one position for long, there was urgency with their movements, as if after his first business as king, the people had a reason to kill him, he could die at any minute, and it was best to have fun while still living. What Larian loved most about going to bed with Amlin was she was just as ambitious as him. She knew what she wanted and she wasn't afraid to take charge. He had been with women in years past that made him uncomfortable, they would almost fall limp, wouldn't move unless he moved them, many times he wouldn't even proceed because it was as if they had no minds of their own, and he wasn't one to take advantage of anyone. Soon the ladies, sometimes noble daughters would simply request to leave with him, up to his room, and nothing would occur. They only wanted to be seen in his intimate favor, the actual act had nothing to do with it.
Larian stroked Amlin's hair, her head rested on his chest, both of them were drenched in sweat, and there was a smell in the air that lingered and kept the mood erotic.
"You know what scares me?" Larian asked, he was with her, and distant at the same time.
"How intense our fucking is getting?" She laughed and propped her chin up on his chest, rolling onto her stomach.
Larian laughed initially and put a hand on her bare back. She could tell he had a serious topic on his mind though and waited for him to continue.
"I enjoyed it."
She thought about making another joke but assumed correctly he was referring to the public trial.
"Having his life in my hands, I felt. Powerful."
"Your verdict was fair. Do you doubt it?"
Larian shook his head, though he wasn't certain in truth. "My father would've let his head roll. He would've executed that man and people wouldn't have looked at him twice."
"You're different. There's nothing wrong with that. How you are," she said reaching up to stroke his troubled face. "Is why I love you."
He smiled at her, perhaps that was enough. She rested her head down again and then he sensed trepidation in her.
"Would you think me mad if I wanted to be by your side in such future matters?"
Larian laughed and sat up a little, she rose to meet his kiss, sitting then with her legs outstretched. "I'd like to help you," she added.
He didn't hate the sound of it, her approval was very important to him and since he considered her the embodiment of all things good and wonderful, he nodded. She was overjoyed, she kissed him passionately and soon she had straddled him again and with a coquettish smile, kissed him down his strong body until she heard a moan and laughed.
"Good Gods, woman," Larian said through a deep breath.
--
Morrigan, Cara, and Sandril felt the intense humidity of the bog right away. Morrigan felt a headache and Cara fell sluggish. A point of interest not far into the bog knotted Morrigan's stomach, and repulsed Cara and made Sandril gag. There was a horse leg sticking out of the water. She didn't know why but she knew it wasn't her father's horse. Though its coloring was distorted and it was hard to tell anything with confidence, it didn't match the final image she had of him riding off down the Farad. She wished they hadn't come that way, wished her father hadn't come that way, it would've been better to have gone anywhere else, but there was no doubt they were on the trail.
Cara saw the human before Morrigan, Morrigan had walked past it without noticing, which amazed her. Brennan's face was eviscerated, it looked like a rock covered in mud, though it was impossible to deny that it had once been a person. It was impossible to know if Sandril whined from the humidity or the eeriness in the place.
"Did eagles do that?" Cara asked.
Morrigan shook her head. "That would've taken a lot of angry eagles. Maybe it was Muskeegi."
"Oh no, do I even want to know what that is?"
"They do tend to stick to bogs, swamps, marshes. I've seen them before, my father has fought them."
Cara pointed to where the ground seemed to solidify again and noted that it should be the end, they could head into the trees from there. They kept moving mindfully.
"Is there a way around it?" Cara asked, understandably, since it didn't seem like the kind of place they should be unless there was no choice.
"Not anymore," Morrigan said, though she wished she had a better answer.
"Now that you mention it, I've read about these, muskeegi, is it?" Cara said. Morrigan figured her the kind of person who would keep calm by talking a lot.
"You read a lot don't you?"
"Mananan, the Elven God of the sea, supposedly had an affair with a beautiful kraken, perhaps another reason to doubt the validity of the elven legends, but the swamp creatures are supposedly the bastard children of that god, of that affair."
Sandril got stuck in the mud and panicked, howled like he wanted the wolves to hear. Morrigan ran up very quickly and freed him. She picked him up, figuring it would be easier to carry him. They arrived at a group of seemingly dead muskeegi, they didn't check for pulses, they still stood at a very comfortable distance. Cara tried to get a good look at the bodies, Sandril licked Morrigan's face as she tried to get her own look.
"I think the eagles you mentioned may have actually killed the muskeegi, not that horse and rider."
Cara looked around after learning enough from the dead monsters. "See any sign of your Father?"
Morrigan had been looking since first stepping into the bog, but there was nothing that stood out pertaining to him.
"Nothing," she finnaly said.
"Against these creatures, no sign seems a good sign. The victims seem to rise after, yeah."
"Let's get through here as quickly as possible."
"That's the best plan you've had so far."
Morrigan led on. Cara took one final look at the dead muskeegi, wanting to make sure one wouldn't decide to live again and give chase.
It took nearly an hour to reach the end of the bog, but they did so only hearing the usual sounds of nature. Morrigan rose up onto the solid ground and put Sandril down and told him to stay where was and he sat and waited for the next command. Morrigan was exhausted, traversing the bog had felt like some sort of military training exercise, and that idea made her feel better about her father's chances, if it were, he'd done it many times. Sandril suddenly growled in Cara's direction while Morrigan was yawning and when her full vision and awareness returned she looked in that direction.
Cara wasn't harmed, she was just moving a bit more slowly from tiredness. She furrowed her brow and motioned to the indignant beast.
"Guess he doesn't like me after all."
As she stepped into the last section of water before the small rise, she didn't notice the rings forming around her, and didn't look down until the water bubbled. A dying muskigee rose, flailing without strength or energy, it reached for Cara but she managed to duck away from it at first and reach for the small rise. Morrigan tried to pull her up, Sandril tried to add to the effort by tugging on Morrigan's pants but their combined strength wasn't enough so Morrigan drew her sword and jumped back down into the bog, she noticed more muskigee were rising behind her but would have time to deal with the closest one. Morrigan didn't notice Sandril jump down with her, he tried to intimidate the beast with his fiercest growl, but he was outgrowled and the thing that beat him had more teeth so Sandril retreated, justifiably. Morrigan managed to hack one of the arms off as it extended and she wondered how much more punishment it could take as she continued to hack away, the thing growled and shrieked hoarsley. It turned to her, swinging with one arm now and Morrigan lunged forward with a cry and buried the sword in its chest, it bled a black ooze and went to take a massive breath but failed in the middle of it. It fell to its back while Morrigan removed the blade. She stared at the body for a while, she could feel the blood move in every vein in her body, her head throbbed. Her first kill, it was an almost mindless monster, but she had taken life from something, the sight of the body still made her stomach churn.
"Come on!" Cara offered her hand, she had reached safety, Morrigan snapped out of it long enough to escape and once she was on solid ground again she caught her breath with Cara and Sandril who barked at the muskigee until they reatreated back underwater.
"Thank you," Cara managed, and Morrigan nodded and thanked her too.