Chapter XII
The Swamp of Osgaroth
That night they stayed atop the relative safety of the pyramid staring up at the stars, unhallowed sounds echoed and resonated from the forest beneath them, and even more strange noises crept up from the swamp. A mist rose above the green unearthly canopy, a fume to hide some unnatural menace. Nishga removed the Orb from her bag and curiously gazed upon it. Achil close by watched her intrigued also to know its use. The Orb softly began to glow, the way her crystal had done. Her eyes became fixed, her mind disappearing into some distant place.
As time passed nothing else appeared to happen, Achil was growing more and more impatient, his gaze bounced irritably between Nishga and the Orb, finally exasperated by the length of time it was taking for her to get it to work; he let out an aggravated cry of frustration.
“Well can you see anything? cried Achil.
“Yes,” replied Nishga. “I can see the Orb.”
Achil gave her another frustrated look, folded his arms, and began grinding his teeth.
“You’re not helping,” said Nishga. “Stop trying to put pressure on me.”
“I’m not trying to put pressure on you,” growled Achil. “I don’t mind you taking your time, just hurry up about it.”
“Thanks for that, I feel so much better,” replied Nishga.
Nishga strained harder, perspiration ran down her brow as though the struggle to concentrate was a battle hard fought, her mind began to descend to unknown places. Achil could tell that she was exerting a great effort as if she were fighting to be in control of something, but of what he could not tell. Suddenly to his surprise she gave out a gasp, and dropped the Orb to the floor.
“What’s wrong?” asked a concerned Achil.
Even in the dark Achil could sense she was agitated. He reached out and put a comforting arm round her.
“Hey, come back to us,” he said gently.
She shook her head as if shaking something away, “I saw the Dragon as it was eating, it stopped and looked up as though it were looking straight at me. The picture then altered and the Dragon was sleeping on a small hill, but the hill was made of the bones of men.”
“I see,” said Achil. “Then perhaps we should use that Orb with a little more care next time. Come Nishga put it away and rest if you can. Try not to concern yourself tonight with what you saw.”
"That's much easier said than done, you didn't see what I saw, it was more than unnerving it was threatening, I felt like the creature knew I was there."
Achil let Nishga lie back, while he remained seated thinking about what had just happened. After a time, one by one the others fell asleep; Achil sat in silence, thinking of the task ahead.
The next day as soon as the sun rose they set off down the steps. The horses were where they had left them, plainly uneaten by uninvited guests. They left the Pyramid and headed off deeper into what had become swampy sodden ground. The ruins of the Mirkoid were becoming more infrequent. As the thickets increased, they all dismounted and proceeded on foot. They managed to cut a path out of the thick undergrowth that seemed to grapple and tear at them ravenously. Achil stopped to get their bearings, wiping the sweat from his brow. The air had become uncomfortably tight, even humid, which meant all four of them began to get irritable, their clothes were becoming saturated, clammy faces glistened, matted hair glued and stiffened into knots, as their pace slowed. None felt like stopping, but the necessity to find somewhere to safely eat and rest was so strong, that soon they found themselves corralled within the large protruding roots of a tree, which towered high above them, and offered them some shelter. They all agreed that the sooner they were gone from the swamp the better. Slowly they moved off once more and as the brush began to thin, the land became boggier, taking on a more cruel shape. The trees were also altering, becoming writhing tortured shapes and the sounds around them were becoming more harrowing.
Although they had had no signs of the Dragon they walked in silence in the hope of not drawing attention to themselves. There was something brooding about the swamp, to Nishga it was a place of unnatural foreboding, only found in the fables and myths of her youth. The further they went the more spied upon they felt, the feeling certainly grew among them that something evil lurked ahead. The trees added to that eerie feeling, they were disjointed and had upturned shapes, big long thick roots sticking out of the ground like tentacles, nasty twisted trunks and forbidding twisted branches that restricted the light. The smell of the putrid water made Nishga gag on more than one occasion, and for the first time since the beginning of their journey, both Achil and Nishga genuinely wished they were back home, though for Nishga, home was now Dragon City. The horses struggled to wade through the stubborn swampy murky waters, unsettled by what might lie hidden beneath them. They eventually found some high ground to rest on. Nishga decided to try the Orb again. As she took it from her bag, Achil gently grasped her hand. Nishga smiled at him with a nod of the head, freeing her hand as she did so. Achil hesitantly stepped back as Nishga’s fixed gaze lowered to the Orb; it began to glow, illuminating her face. It then dimmed, suddenly pictures appeared, she started to view scenes from the past involving the Mirkoid. She could see what must have been a Shaman holding up an Orb in front of what was a Serpent; they appeared to be communicating with each other.
The picture faded and then she saw Ruin Mountain. First from a distance, then close up; it was as if she were moving through the calloused calcified rock of the mountain, right up to its molten core. There curled up was a Dragon. Long curved menacing horns protruded cruelly from its head, and there were three more on its tail. Talons the size of spears, sprang from its limbs. It was truly formidable. An eye slowly opened, it was looking for something. Nishga realised the creature had sensed her. She let her concentration slip.
“What’s wrong?” asked Achil.
She took a deep breath before answering, gulping down air, as if to calm herself.
“It has grown strong,” replied Nishga. “The impression I get is that the Dragon is resting or just waiting; for what I don’t know. Unless of course it has realised that we are here and it waits for us, but I don't think that’s it. I believe it may be preparing itself to strike out, but at what, or who, I know not.”
Achil stared at the Orb shaking his head ruefully.
“Nishga it may be dangerous to use the Orb,” said Achil. "As it is something we don’t fully understand the use of yet. Perhaps it is best left alone for now. The creature may become aware of you in such a manner as to be able to know what you're thinking.”
Nishga nodded, covered the Orb and placed it carefully in her bag. Night was descending on the swamp, sounds once only imagined when they were children, seemed to echo all around them. A mist seemed to rise up from the tepid waters. There was a sharp shriek like some creature from the underworld was crying out in pain, which brought everyone to a sudden stop. Achil and Andreas drew their swords as if expecting to be attacked, but all was still. Achil gestured for them to move on, so they took their horses and led them off into the dark. Nishga held up her crystal and it weakly shone out, it simply could not penetrate the mist that was now covering their way. They trod carefully their minds making sinister figures appear in front, and to the side of them.
After a while the soft mist that had enveloped them began to thin, and they could make out the shapes of the trees in the gloom, in the distance could be seen an unnatural flickering light, it was almost ghostly in its appearance. Achil put his hand up for them to stop, and he and Nicholas went to investigate. As they approached they could see the shapes of men. They were standing around a fire, wearing masks. The same masks the Mirkoid once wore in their ceremonies.
Achil leant forwards to Nicholas so as not to be overheard.
“Now at least we know what happened to the Mirkoid,” said Achil quietly.