A World Without Heroes
Page 81

“How far to the Sunken Lands?” Jason asked.
“This is rugged country,” Jasher said, looking to the northeast. “The outskirts lie more than a week away. The contours of the land cause water to collect and stagnate there in a vast swamp, a festering breeding ground for foulness and slime. During a certain season the Sunken Lands become inaccessible due to rampant disease spread by impenetrable clouds of biting insects. This time of year we should survive if we take the proper precautions.”
“So we’d better enjoy the ride in the woods while we can,” Rachel said.
Jasher nodded. “The Sunken Lands will not be pleasant.”
Traveling with Jasher proved simple. He gathered nuts and berries and supplemented their meals with fish and fowl. After two days of circuitous wandering to confuse pursuers, he began improvising easy routes across the gentlest available terrain, occasionally finding secluded paths to follow. Sometimes on high ground he climbed a tree to get his bearings or to check for enemies, but the days passed without hardship.
By their fifth day traveling together their path through the hilly wilderness trended down more than up. Early on the eighth day, from a hilltop, they glimpsed hazy, green lowlands to the north. Late on the ninth day, beside a rushing spring, Jasher informed them that they were filling their water skins for the last time before they left the Sunken Lands.
The next day Jasher left the horses on long tethers, and they proceeded on foot. He explained that the upcoming terrain was unsuitable for horses.
After leaving the horses, as predicted the ground became boggy and the air more humid. Jason’s boots squelched in clinging muck so often he eventually ceased trying to avoid it. Persistent rafts of mud on his soles added weight to his strides and sometimes made it feel like he was wearing snowshoes.
As they progressed, Jason, Rachel, and Jasher all selected long walking sticks. Several times they were forced to double back because of quicksand or impassable mires.
Evening had fallen when Jasher paused beside a pool where a cluster of large violet flowers flourished. The striking petals looked venomously bright against the dull greens and browns of the surrounding foliage.
“I hoped to find some of these orchids before proceeding much farther,” Jasher said. He plucked a closed bud from a stem and squeezed the tightly sealed petals. Blue gel oozed out. Jasher licked it. “The results are not entirely pleasant, but this nectar will keep most of the biting and stinging insects at a distance.”
Jason ripped off a bud and ate the gel. It had almost no taste. Rachel tried some as well. Jasher plucked a few extra buds.
Not long after leaving that pool, Jasher found a section of higher ground covered in leafy ivy. They dined on gutplug and dried meat.
“We are at the threshold of the Sunken Lands,” Jasher said as he bedded down. Jason and Rachel lay at either side of him on their backs, the ivy adding some cushion beneath their blankets. “Tomorrow you will see the actual swamp. The depths of the swamp cannot be negotiated without a watercraft. Fortunately, my people forage sporadically in the swamp to gather rare herbs and fungi. I believe I can guide us to a hidden skiff.”
“What kind of animals live here?” Rachel asked. Her tone suggested she dreaded the answer, but couldn’t resist asking.
“Our concern tonight will be serpents,” Jasher said. “Should you feel a scaly visitor coiling against you in the night, keep still. Most snakes will not strike a person unless provoked. Be thankful the night is warm. On cold nights serpents are drawn to people for warmth. I once awoke with a black-ringed water prowler curled against my chest, inside my robes. Are you familiar with the species?”
“No,” Rachel said, a quaver in her voice.
“The black-ringed water prowler is among the most poisonous of serpents. Its venom will claim the life of a strong man before he takes twenty breaths. The pain is instant and unbearable.”
Jason leaned up on one elbow. “What did you do?”
“After I gingerly peered down my robes and observed the markings of the dread snake, I lay still and dreamless the remainder of the night, perspiring despite the chill air. I may live again after I die, but there is no guarantee my seed will be planted, and occasionally an amar is defective. Even under the best circumstances death can be highly inconvenient. In the morning the serpent stirred. It exited my robes past my neck, slithering against my cheek, as if daring me to flinch or cry out. Then it was gone.”
“Are you trying to make me crazy?” Rachel asked. “Why would you tell a story like that on a night like this?”
“As a warning,” Jasher said.
“More like psychological warfare,” Rachel muttered.
“I hear the snakes like girls best,” Jason teased. “Rachel can be our snake magnet.”
“I’m walking back to Trensicourt,” Rachel declared.
“You should sleep in the middle,” Jasher offered. “It will offer some protection.”
Rachel gratefully traded places with him.
Jason eyed the surrounding ivy. He rested his head on his arms. Every rustling sound in the night set his nerves on edge. It was a long while before sleep overtook him.
Jason wakened in the morning to an awful stench. He sat up, sniffing the rank air with sleepy disgust. A low fog hung over the marshland, fuming up from the surrounding pools.
Rachel remained asleep. Jasher lay with his eyes half open, crystal blue irises shifting eerily from side to side.
Jason put his nose near his wrist, and the unsavory stink was stronger. Sniffing at himself, he found that his entire body smelled putrid, his armpits unbearable, as if his natural body odor had been grotesquely magnified. Wasn’t his own stench only supposed to bother other people?
Leaning over Rachel, Jason found she reeked even worse than he did. Leaning farther, he could smell Jasher as well.
Jasher fully opened his eyes. “The pungent odors of swamp travel,” he said, sitting up and stretching.
“Ugh,” Rachel griped, propping herself up, bleary-eyed. “What died?”
“We did,” Jason said.
She sniffed her shoulder and made a revolted face. “That’s us? What happened?”
“Think about it,” Jasher said.
Jason shot Jasher a hard look. “The stuff from the flowers? You did this on purpose?”
Jasher grinned. “Trust me. To venture into the swamp without a means of repelling the insects is not merely inconvenient. It borders on suicide. Some of the pests are poisonous; others carry diseases. This time of year the stink should suffice to keep the insects away.”