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“This place reeks!” Garth complained, holding a cloth over his bulbous nose. “The stench is enough to make a troll gag!” The dwarf sloshed along through the stagnant water and thick muck atop Kariah's pony. The young elf maiden rode atop Storm with Damion after insisting on not leaving his side.
They pushed their way through the foul-smelling sludge of the swamp, moving slowly through the rolling fog with their eyes alert for any signs of movement. Nothing grew in the mucus-like mud, though hundreds of huge rotting trees spoke loudly that it was once a thriving wetland. The going was slow as they attempted to take the path of least resistance. The horses often became mired in the mud, which forced them to find another path after freeing their stuck mounts.
“This place is truly cursed.” Dar said, his tiny face sad. “Nothing lives or grows in this place. Only the dead haunt this land.”
“Why?” The dwarf asked in a muffled voice, refusing to pull the cloth from his nose. “What could curse an entire region?"
Dar shrugged his tiny shoulders. “No one knows. But the walking dead have ruled this region for centuries. Very few people attempt to enter this cursed area. My people give this region a wide berth. The few people that travel this way detour to the coast and avoid this area entirely. No one knows why the dead rise, and no one cares to risk their lives to find out.” His eyes grew reflective. “These were once thriving wetlands, many centuries ago, but something evil happened here, and the dead began to rise and haunt the nighttime. Soon the entire swamp began to die, and the creatures that had once called it home fled its evil.”
“You mean you really are serious about the dead returning to the living?” The dwarf choked, his face growing pale. “I had just thought you were exaggerating! Oh, this just keeps getting better and better!”
“It is not a joke. Fortunately, the cursed only rise at night. The only problem is that it takes over a week to make it through the swamp. It was really our only option though.” His face mirrored his worry. “It's safe to say we will eventually encounter them as we journey through. We’ll need to be prepared for them.”
“How are we supposed to kill something that is already dead?” Sly demanded, looking around nervously.
The childlike Alena shook his head. “They can't be killed. You can only destroy their bodies to the point that they cannot continue. They are very dangerous. If you suffer a bite from one of the cursed, you're doomed to spend eternity as one of them.”
Kariah shivered, then nestled closer to Damion.
“You’re so reassuring.” Sly muttered sarcastically. “I’m beginning to think that this may have been a bad idea.”
Dar's little face was grimly serious. “Passing through this swamp may be more dangerous than facing the dragon.”
They pushed on relentlessly, moving as quickly as they could and pausing only occasionally to allow the horses to rest. The mud slowed their progress to a crawl, and they all began to feel a sense of urgency as dusk approached. Even the horses seemed reluctant to slow their pace, pushing on as though eager to be clear the area as quickly as possible.
Snowfeather circled overhead until well after midnight, trying his best to see through the dense fog, although even his keen eyes couldn't pierce the swirling haze. He finally dropped from the sky and settled on Damion shoulder. “I don't think I can keep this up much longer.” He squawked loudly in Damion's ear. “If I have to circle overhead any longer, I'm going to be sick with dizziness. I'm not a vulture, you know.”
Sly's horse suddenly slipped in some mud and began to thrash about frantically, tossing the little man into the stagnant water, and splashing Damion, Kariah, and Snowfeather with slimy muck.
Garth burst out laughing, nearly falling from his saddle in his mirth. He had somehow avoided the spray of slime, and seemed to find their misfortune highly amusing.
Sly struggled to his feet cursing and swearing venomously, and fixed the chuckling dwarf with a dangerous look.
Snowfeather joined the chorus of swears with his own tirade, screeching in fury as he shook the muck from his sodden feathers. “Damion,” The huge bird chattered indignantly. “I would like to take this chance to officially resign as your companion.”
Damion snorted, wiping the mud from his eyes. “You wish.” He answered aloud.
Sly had to struggle for moment to calm his horse, then finally heaved himself back into his saddle. He turned and glared at the dwarf, who was still chuckling. “One more chuckle and I'll make sure you go for a swim, too.”
Garth gulped, then fell silent.
A deep rumble of thunder echoed through the night, announcing the drizzling rain which soon followed.
Damion cursed, then sighed in resignation. “At least it will help wash this muck off.”
The rain began to fall heavier, driving off the fog, but the dark and gloomy storm clouds above allowed little moonlight to travel by. A bolt of lightning suddenly crashed into a rotting tree less than hundred yards away, causing the horses to jump in fear. It took several moments of struggling to bring them back under control.
“That was too close!” Sly grunted, trying to calm his trembling steed. “We need to find shelter before this storm strikes full force.”
More lightning continued to streak across the skies, momentarily revealing a large grove of thick spiky vines a few dozen yards away that was surrounded by several huge rotting trees.
Damion spotted the grove and pointed it out. “Let’s head for that grove of vines.” He bellowed over the rolling thunder. “I think I have an idea.” He led the way to the grove, which had once been a thriving tangle, but now hung lifeless.
Reining in Storm, he swung down from the huge warhorse's back and immediately slipped in the mud. Cursing loudly, he struggled to his feet accompanied by the others' laughter. He gritted his teeth, ignoring their snickers, then focused his magic on the lifeless vines. The vines suddenly burst into life and began to grow longer and thicker, weaving in amongst itself until it formed a large domed hut that remained open at the front.
“Very clever.” Sly complemented. “Can you do anything about the mud?”
Damion directed his magic at the muddy ground. Steam suddenly began rise as the moisture began to evaporate from the soil. Within moments, the ground within the domed hut was completely dry. He smirked cockily, then began to lead the way inside, but was stopped fast. He looked down in confusion, and found himself stuck ankle deep in the now solid soil. He blushed in embarrassment as everyone began to laugh once again, and quickly struggled to release himself.
There was ample room inside of the domed structure, so they were able to fit all the horses inside without a problem. Damion gathered a few small stones and piled them together in the center of the hut’s opening, and after a few moments of concentration they burst into flame, bringing welcome warmth to the companions.
“You are a very useful fellow to have around.” Kariah said with a smile, moving close to the magical fire.
“So far, luck has been on our side,” Dar said, warming his hands at the fire. “But we won't be able to count on that much longer.”
Damion stared out at the dreary swamp. “We’ll stop here for the rest of the night, then set off at dawn.” He looked at the others. “We can take turns standing watch for any trouble.”
“What about the horses?” Sly asked worriedly. “We have plenty of oats and grain for them to eat, but not nearly enough fresh water.” He gave Damion a curious look. “Can you use your magic to create some water?”
Damion frowned. “I’m not entirely sure. Damarius showed me how to use my magic to create different things, but I never tried to make water.”
“Well, now is the time to find out.” The scruffy little man produced a couple of large buckets from one of their pack-horses. “See if you can fill these up. The horses can take turns drinking, and you can just refill them occasionally.”
Damion gave him a dubious look, then concentrated his magic upo
n the buckets. At first nothing happened, then, slowly at first, water began to appear at the bottom of the bucket, slowly rising until both buckets were nearly overflowing.
“Excellent!” Sly applauded, taking both buckets over to the horses so they could drink. “You have just solved a major problem that had been worrying me. Without fresh water, our horses wouldn’t have made it another two days.”
“We could have always given them some of your ale.” Kariah suggested.
Sly gasped, shocked at such a horrifying thought.
They dined on a stew Kariah whipped up with some of their supplies, and washed it down with some of Sly’s dwarven ale. They all felt much better after having a hot meal to help warm their insides. Once they were finished, the others spread out their bedrolls and tried to get some rest, while Damion settled down near the fire to staring out at the pouring rain.
After an hour or so, the rain began to slacken to a light drizzle, and the fog slowly began to thicken once more. He was preparing to awaken Sly to take over the watch when a horrible scream suddenly echoed through the murky darkness.
Garth jumped fearfully, then scrambled to his feet and grabbed his battle-axe. “By the gods! What was that?”
“I knew our luck wasn't going to hold out!” Dar cried as he jumped to his feet, his tiny face pale. “The dead have risen!”
Another tortured howl echoed through the swamp, sounding much closer than before. Strange dark figures began to shuffle through the shadows cast by the firelight. The figures slowly began to drift closer to the shelter, their hungry growls floating through the night.
“I would just like one night of uninterrupted sleep!” Sly groaned miserably as he rolled to his feet and drew his sword.
They readied themselves as one of the shadows moved closer to the fire, but it stopped just out of the light cast by the flames. The companions nearly gagged as the overwhelming scent of rotting flesh overpowered their senses.
The storm suddenly released another torrent of rain which further obscured their vision. The hungry howls continued to pierce the night, growing ever closer and more desperate. The companions quickly gathered more stones and lined them across the opening of the hut, then Damion set them aflame, completely blocking the entrance. He then drew the Dragon Sword from its sheath, and prepared himself for battle.
The shuffling figures continued to remain just outside of the firelight, howling horribly with a dreadful hunger. Several smaller four-legged creatures also prowled among the shadows, pacing back and forth restlessly. Occasionally one would toss its head back and release an earsplitting howl that would echo through the night.
“Don’t let them cross through the fire!” Dar warned. “If they inflict you with a bite, you will be cursed to become one of the undead yourself!”
“Do you have to keep reminding us?” Sly said sourly.
One of the four-legged creatures suddenly leapt through the flames and landed between Sly and Dar, snarling in terrible hunger. They were repulsed by what they saw. It was a huge shaggy wolf that had obviously been dead for quite some time. Most of the skin and fur had fallen away to reveal the rotting flesh and bone beneath. Its bulging eyes were covered with a milky white film, and the flesh was completely rotted away from the creature’s muzzle, leaving it with a permanent snarl. Thousands of maggots covered its body, squirming through the rotten flesh grotesquely.
The undead wolf whirled on Dar and snarled, causing the tiny Alena to jump back fearfully, his tiny face deathly pale. It lunged at him with lightning speed, but was knocked to the ground as Sly lashed out with a powerful kick that crushed the left side of its head. It scrambled back to its feet, one eye hanging from the socket, but seemed completely unaffected by the horrendous injury.
Damion instantly recovered his wits and dashed forward, a fireball forming in his hand. It caught the undead creature full in the ribs and exploded, hurling it back backwards through the wall of flames.
Another undead wolf leapt through the flames only to have its skull crushed by Garth's battle-axe. It fell twitching to the ground, its head nearly completely severed from its body. Its legs kicked feebly as it tried in vain to rise back to its feet, but its body could no longer respond. Damion seized the twitching carcass by the legs and hurled it back through the flames, where it crashed into several other shadowy figures that continued to lurk just outside of the firelight.
A loud splintering crash caused to them all to jump in surprise. Damion spun around to stare at the back of the shelter and saw that one of the undead creatures, a human man, had somehow managed to claw its way through the thick vine wall near the horses. Storm screamed in fury, then reared and lashed out with a powerful foreleg. The dead man's chest collapsed, and it was hurled back through the opening in the vines.
Several more of the undead began to gather outside the vine hut, desperately trying to claw their way into the shelter. Damion drew in his magic and the vines instantly sprang back to life once more, writhing like snakes as they intertwined and thickened to produce an almost impenetrable shield around them. He then turned and focused on the flaming stones which held the rest of the dead at bay. The flames suddenly grew in strength, towering high into the night and throwing off an intense heat that effectively forced the undead to keep their distance. Those few that attempted to pass through the flames were immediately consumed by the roaring inferno.
Damion returned to the Dragon Sword to its sheath, then turned to the others. “I think that will keep us safe until dawn.”
"Thank the gods!" Kariah said in a relieved tone. "Those things are horrifying!"
The tortured screams continued grow with a greater urgency, and they could still hear the creatures as they fruitlessly tried to claw their way through the tough spiky vines. They settled back down and tried to relax as best they could under the circumstances, but the ravenous howls kept them from having any hope for sleep. They stretched out on their bedrolls in silence, trying without success to block out the agonized screams that continued to pierce the night.
“How much longer is it until dawn?” Garth asked, finally breaking the silence.
“It’s hard to say.” Sly grunted his face bleak. “At least a couple more hours.” He spat on the ground in disgust, then rose to his feet and began rummaging through the packs. He finally produced a cask of ale and several metal cups. “We might as well make ourselves comfortable. It doesn't appear that we are going anywhere anytime soon."