A rooster’s crow snapped him into a painful wakefulness. Opening his eyes proved impossible. The hit he took against the stone steps must have done something to his face. Lex tried to force his eyes open but couldn’t. Cold shivers suddenly wracked his body and he flailed to the side on the chair. A coughing fit threw him into a new world of pain as his body rattled.
He knew he was hurt bad and couldn’t find the strength to move. Slowly, he felt around his face. It was swollen and painful to the touch. The tip of his nose touched his left cheek and if he didn’t do something soon, it would heal bent. When he dared touch a bite, puss thick like curdled milk oozed from the wounds. Lex froze in place when the agony forced him to stop. Even shaking had become too painful to handle.
The world started to spin, and he burned up. Lex didn’t give up, he concentrated on opening his left eye. Through the swollen flesh his eye burned as the lid stuck dry while it opened. Orange light of sunset filled the room. Another shiver made him jump and shake uncontrollably like a seizure.
He felt a wetness at his crouch. Lex had long since pissed himself. His whole body cramped like it was tied into knots. Moving was impossible and breathing became difficult.
It was worst around the bites. He could feel them pulse and crack from the most minute of movement. Even when he tried to stay still his muscles spasmed and the pain nearly threw him back into blissful unconsciousness.
Lex knew he didn’t have much time. It was worse than the bite from a swamp viper. He couldn’t move, call for help, or even shout. Anna might come here Tom would have sent her to check on him. The door wasn’t locked, and the sun was going down. She could have come and gone for help. That hopeful thought kept him going until the sun fully set and his condition didn’t get any better.
He felt something crawl on his leg and looked down to see Babette. She looked at him with eight red eyes. It was hard to guess at her body language with only one eye. Either she was stressed or hungry. Babette leapt from his ankle avoiding his urine trail and landed on his side. She crawled up his body until she was at his eye.
Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep awake. Her eight eyes seemed to bunch together. Their lines of separation became spiral of a red whirlpool. The spider’s eyes swirled in his vision and he felt himself drift off.
The cold touch of fear crept up his spine. What if this was it? He wasn’t ready. There was too much he hadn’t done. Lex wanted to marry Anna and become a master blacksmith. His life was only just beginning.
He felt soft hands touch him and then blacked out when his nose was violently wrenched straight. “You’ve really done a number on yourself this time Lex.” A familiar voice said. He knew he’d heard it before, but it was, blurry.
…
No one can find the old mansion in the town of faithful anymore. It is rumored that Lex always knew his mother was a witch, a foreign noble, or perhaps a goddess of the swamp. Perhaps she was an emissary of some god that fell in love with a mortal. Either way by spell or some cataclysmic event the people of Faithful don’t remember her. Even her son only possesses blurred half erased memories. Like the memories of the town, and her son, the world forgot the mansion existed. No one not even Lex could find it after it vanished.
Lex stood out in a timeless memory of his past. Ink wells sat full on his splotch covered writing desk. Books piles up on the desk while a young boy wrote. In the corner of the room was his bed. His mother’s stitching wasn’t quite right, and straw poked out of at the seams. He could see where it would one day rip and Anna would repair it for him. Still, this was the bed made for him by mother with its poor stitching and poorly packed straw.
As if called upon by his remembrance, parts of the bed rippled disturbed in a way dropped stones ripple still water. The swirling rippled expanded out eating away at the bed. A latticework of destruction ate away at his childhood comfort. “We can stop it.” Lex whirled around to see his younger self dip his quill.
Lex didn’t know what to say. The memories that made up this boy were absent in him. “How, I can’t club magic to death?” Lex’s voice was harsher than he panned.
The boy shook his head. “You know everything I do. Even if they’re blurred our memories still exist. Try to remember the rules.” Younger Lex asked. The latticework quickly spread consuming the memory. “Listen, ask about raja. If someone can give you raja there is a technique.” As if sensing the importance in those words the ripples struck like a viper.
He was gone out from one dream into another. The image of his room changed. Books were thrown about on his shelf but already they too were blurring out. Titles distorted from botonny to alchemy and ecology to necromancy. An introduction to mathematics became an old tome of witchcraft. Things that were known changed. His past was corrupted changed without reference or substance.
The knowledge that he had relied upon smashed into a thousand pieces. He picked up his club. As the titles shifted to dungeon craft, dragon slaying, to soul enchanting Lex hefted his club. While everything else blurred the club in his hand remained constant. His past became a latticework of a thousand possibilities where he couldn’t tell what he learned and when.
“Why did you have to be born a BE type? I can’t bring you with me. So, forget.” He twisted around and raised his club. A green blast of light connected with his weapon and drove him to his knees. More of the world blurred extending the possibilities infinitely until he felt them come full circle.
Like wet paint under a summer rain his past ran and distorted. Only the barest latticework of what had been remained.
It had already happened. Lex realized that even this was all part of the fever dream from the poisonous bites. Everything had already happened. “At least tell me who my father is before you make me forget.”
Lex stepped back to see his younger self standing in his place. Spiraling holes spread across the image of his past. This had already happened. But what did it mean?
“Minelax,” he heard the word just before his mother blasted him through the club. Everything faded. When his mother cast her spell on him, everything blurred.
…
His eyes snapped open. Not only was he still alive but it felt like his fever broke. Strength returned to his limbs as morning light streamed down on him. The places where he’d been bitten had scabbed over. He poked at the wounds they were still ugly and red around the scabs. Smaller bites encircled the wounds along with yellow bruises. Most of his leg was one giant purple bruise. Where Emily had touched him was the deepest purple. Strangely the bite had gone yellowish like the shoulder bite.
Lex walked over to his club and picked it up. At that moment, he swore never to leave his club behind again.
Blood stains covered the floor near the door. His blood had long since dried, but another type of blood remained. Beside the rust-colored stains, he left behind on the carpet Emily’s blood appeared fresh. That shouldn’t be possible.
On closer inspection handprints were charred into the windows. There wasn’t a crack in site, but he didn’t expect to see one. Each window was 10cm thick. This house was built to withstand all manner of punishment from storms to invaders.
The memories from his fever dream were clearer than he expected. He needed to ask about raja and his father’s name was Minelax. Lex didn’t know what to think about his father. He didn’t know the man and Lex was a man himself. Soon, he’d have a trade, a wife, and children. What was the point of asking about raja or even his father? Some things were meant to be forgotten.
He showered and put on his last set of clothes. Once he got to work, he’d have to invest in some new clothes. Anna would probably make him some pants if he asked her. He’d warn them to stay in doors and leave a few torches outside burning. Emily seemed scared to torch light.
Lex strapped on an old leather harness and sheathed his club in it. The night was full of danger he wasn’t confident he could beat Emily without his club. If she ambushed him, he couldn’t beat her with it either. A shiver crawled down his spine. One bite and he would be helpless.
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He needed a drink and food. Spreading his news around couldn’t hurt. He decided to go to the ale house instead of Tom’s house. From his coin purse he counted out six copper coins and a silver. They would have to do.
Once his purse had been overflowing with silver and a few golds. That was when he hunted the swamp and brought back rare plants and game. Anna didn’t like it and after Tom asked him to apprentice in blacksmithing Lex couldn’t refuse. When he hunted the swamp, Lex had been harder. There was danger around ever corner and the unwary died often. The day a man grew comfortable in Yellow Blood Swamp was that day that man died. Lex had started feeling comfortable before becoming Tom’s apprentice.
He made his way there in a few hours. The ale house was a long building on a set of stilts. It was closer to the swamp than some of the other houses and businesses. When it rained there was always a danger of flooding. Patrons streamed in and out at all hours of the day and a few slept there instead of braving the night. It was comfortable, filled with good company, and the food was good. Lex enjoyed the ale though Faithful was known for its unique mead.
Lex walked in, found his usual place, and Penny the owner’s daughter had an ale and steaming basil roasted chicken out for him in ten minutes. He placed his last silver on the bar table and dug into his meal. Grease from the chicken dripped down his face while he struggled to keep the chicken from falling off the bone. He took a sip of crisp smooth ale before draining it completely. Lex shoved a leg in his mouth before slurping the bone clean.
Penny quickly came around and refilled his mug. “Lex is that you. Did you have a fight with a yellow tiger?” Steve a local bee farmer asked. Lex had fulfilled a few of the man’s requests.
Lex turned ready to tell the man off when he saw the man’s expression. It was a look of a man with bad news. “No one has seen you in a week, so we thought you went missing too.” Lex slammed back his latest mug of ale and slammed it down.
He stared Steve up and down. The man didn’t look like himself. Bags settled under the man’s eyes and he had a few cuts under his sleeves. They were strait so Lex guessed bloodletting. It was an old practice when a disease infiltrated the village.
“I saw what’s behind it. That’s why I got my club. Some parasites from the swamp are getting into people and making them crazy. Emily attacked me, and bit me twice.” Lex said.
More patrons leaned in and even Penny looked at the bites on his shoulder. A few grunted and turned back to their ale. Some who ventured out into the swamp really looked at the wounds. Lex could see the wheels turning in their heads. They compared his wounds to the many creatures in the swamp.
“Then it has to be a witch. It sounds like something from one of Michael’s stories. You know the kind. No witch hunting knights are coming we’re alone. They aren’t crossing the heart of the swamp for Faithful’s taxes. The Eastern knights aren’t experienced in which hunting. Those that come would just die.” Steve said.
“Why don’t you tell us like it is Steve? You don’t have to be so optimistic.” Penny said. The waitress tossed back her braided tresses and refilled Lex’s drink. “Do you have a plan? You wouldn’t have stirred my customers up without one.”
Lex took a sip of ale. “I don’t know how to destroy them. If you say their name, they can target you. If my door wasn’t so heavy, I wouldn’t have made it. Torches are your friend; they shy away from the light. Don’t get bit. Your limbs will go numb and fail you. Don’t go out at night or open it to strangers.” Lex said.
“I think you’re full of shit.” Bradley said. He was tall and lean a veteran of the swamp longer than Lex. Red mud clung to the man’s skin from a recent outing. There was a hardness to the man that Lex had lost. Instead of a club the man kept a long spear on his back. The spear head was a tusk from a swamp cow.
Lex wanted to club the man. He stared up at the man’s brown eyes. They had competed once for customers and gathering spots. While Lex had left the practice, Bradley continued honing his skills nearly unopposed. If there was an expert in the room with more credibility than Lex it was Bradley.
“You tried to go back out there and got your ass handed to you. Now you’re trying to stir up sympathy and trouble. I’ve seen all the swamp has to offer but none of it matches what you describe. A few bites aren’t proof. Capture one of the creatures alive and show us.” The other patrons looked to Bradley then back to Lex.
“Accidents out there happen to the best of us. You don’t need to feel embarrassed or make up tall tales. Though the creatures you describe sound scarry. When this disease blows over you should make a story of it.” Steve said.
Lex looked up to see Penny narrow her eyes at him. He felt confused. “Since when was my word no longer good enough? Bradley is hardly the expert he pretends to be.” Lex pointed at Bradley. “I’ve seen the weeds you chew.” Lex yelled.
“Knock it off Lex. You just have to find proof of your claims. That should be easy.” Steve said.
He didn’t get what was happening. Lex threw three copper on the table and stood up. These people would see in time. But they could wait. He needed to see Anna. If he warned Anna and her family then they could form a block. One person saying something wasn’t as powerful as a whole family. All they had to do was convince enough people of the truth and Bradley wouldn’t matter.
Lex cleaned the grease from his mouth with a bar rag and left the ale house. The sun was still high, so he had plenty of time. He stopped by Jenny’s Herb shop and bought some garlic flowers. Their violet petals weren’t just beautiful, a wreath of them would keep most pests away. It was once considered good luck for unmarried girls to wear them around the neck. The practice had fallen out of fashion recently.
He paid the last of his copper for the wreath and set out for Tom’s smithy. “Please say hello to Martha for me. And remind her that her order is ready. But don’t tell Anna it’s a surprise for her.” Jenny said before he left. He narrowed his eyes at the odd question. Lex only nodded and walked up the path to Tom’s smithy.
At the door he knocked and heard no answer. He checked the smithy proper to find the flames extinguished. While there was plenty of coal the smithy flame had gone out. The bellows haven’t been pumped in days. Soot unblemished by footprints covered the floor pump. Even if Tom took the day off, he wouldn’t have let the smithy fire go out.
He used a spare key from the false bottom of the well bucket and opened the door. The smell of old rot and the buzz of flies assaulted his senses. Lex’s charged into the house and made a bee line for Anna’s room.
The door shattered off the henges when he burst through. Painful bruising or not his heart wouldn’t allow him to hold back. He threw the remains of her door aside to see no one. The room was empty with the bed sheets overturn. Her window lay unlatched.
He searched the rest of the building to find Tom, Martha, and their son Chris. Their bloated fly ridden corpses had been here for three days. The doors were locked, and no one had come to investigate. Why? Tom was well known and one of the few blacksmiths in the village. Smoke from his forge was always spewing from his chimney. For it to have stopped should be a cause for concern.
Should he go to the town speaker next? What about the tax collector? Such a man was almost removed from the village. He would see this situation in sums and number. With people dying he couldn’t collect as many taxes. If anyone could help it would be him.
First, he had to check on something. Anna’s footprints weren’t fresh, but they told him enough. The heaviest footprints have her going away. She came back with lighter footprints then left again. Lex covered his face with cloth from his shirt and went back into Tom’s house.
He found Tom’s knife, a hardy piece of steel with a leather cord wrapped handle. Tom kept the blade razor sharp. If there was proof to be had it was on Tom’s body. Lex cut off the man’s clothes and searched for bites.
Using the sheets, he flipped the body over but couldn’t find anything. It was odd. There should be bites. If Anna had become one of the monsters or another monster came here and attacked her parents and brother, there should be bite wounds. The bodies were cold, bloated, and covered in flies but there were no bite wounds. It didn’t make any sense.
He made a cut at Martha’s back and not a drop of blood leaked out. Gravity should push the blood free even from a corpse. But not a drop came free. How was Tom and Martha drained without leaving evidence.
He looked up to see the sun begin its decline. If he could warn the tax collector maybe they could get ahead of the problem.
Two hours later he was across town at a small official building. Ronny Rickson was a bastard of count Rick Midland. While he wasn’t in line to inherit Ronny held an official position and had the most political backing in the village. When Ronny spoke, people listened. He hoped Bradley hadn’t already gotten to the man.
When the door opened, he found the man dressed to leave. Ronny smelled of various tonics to and poultices to keep most vermin from Yellow Blood Swamp at bay. The man stood with an aura of control few men had. Even at Lex’s hardest he never felt that he could take on Ronny. The air around the man seemed to shimmer with brilliance that separated Ronny from the villagers. It reminded him a little of his mother.
“Mr. Rickson, I think I know what has infested our village.” The man waved his hand as if to brush Lex’s words aside.
“If so, then I suggest you prepare to leave. Anyone who could help us is too far away to matter and those close by will only increase the casualties. Leave, warn Tom and his family. A good blacksmith can find work almost anywhere. You can continue mastering you trade under. If you need a writ of passage, I will provide them to you.” Ronny said.
Lex stared down at Ronny’s fancy gator leather shoes. He had snared the beast himself and sold it’s hide to Ben the cobbler for a gold coin. Once turned into such fine boots they sold for 50 gold coins a pair. On the side of one of the boots was a scar from one of the gators many battles. That’s how he knew it was the gator he had captured.
“Tom is dead, and Anna is missing. Couldn’t we stop this with the backing of the town?” Lex asked.
“That makes forty families gone. By the state of your face and the bite wound on your shoulder, I assume you encountered a creature. You’re a hundred and ninety-five centimeters tall and in the prime of your life but it nearly killed you. What chance would Bob the one-hundred-and-seventy-centimeter baker have? We have far more Bob the bakers than Lex the swamp hunter. Do you think they will fight fairly? They won’t line up to be slaughtered like in the stories. No, we’ll be picked apart the weakest first until only we remain.” Ronny said.
Lex took a step back and felt himself fall back against a wall. Anna was probably one of them. “Is there a cure?” Lex asked.
“No one knows. To say their names is to invite death and to say what they are aloud or even think it is to single yourself out.” Ronny said.
Lex went quiet as Ronny continued preparing to leave. Another line of questioning came to mind. He felt numb and didn’t care about the consequences. “What’s raja?” Ronny froze.
An elbow smashed into his throat and pinned him against the wall. Lex gasped for air but for his struggles he might as well be fighting against a swamp bull. “Where did you hear that word?” He could feel more strength than anything he’d encountered push against his throat. Lex couldn’t breathe. If he didn’t do something soon, he’d die.
“Monster,” Lex gasped. Ronny’s eyes widened and let go.
“I’m sure, it sounds just like a monster to tell its victims things like that. Raja is the power of the nobles and isn’t something for you to worry about. Witches are burned for stealing it. If you value your life don’t ask about it again.” Ronny said.
“I was told it could fight these creatures. Could you give me some of your raja?” Lex asked.
Ronny’s eyes widened for a third time. “The gall for a swamp peasant to ask for a noble’s strength. You know, it could kill you without the proper technique.” Ronny said.
“I don’t care, I want to fight.” Lex said.
Ronny smashed a heavy fist into Lex’s solar plexus knocking the air out of him. “Find someone else to kill you. I won’t do it.” Ronny said and left.
Lex got himself off the ground and made his way back home. He planned to go fishing the next day to morn Tom’s passing. The man’s family had been nothing but good to Lex. Anna was gone most likely turned into one of those things. He felt like he knew more and less than before. Everything was wrong. He wished the world could go back to how it was before.
The sun set by the time he closed the iron gate to his home. He walked across the path until stood in front of his door. For a moment, he stared at the heavy wooden door. She was behind him. The same instincts that had saved him time and again in Yellow Blood Swamp yelled at him now. Anna was there at the edge the gate. The sun was down, and he wouldn’t be able to see her, but he could feel it.
“Don’t say my name, I can’t resist this. Go inside and forget about me. Anna said. He wanted to say her name, hold her, and tell her that they’d find a cure together. Everything would be ok if only they stayed together.
“Good night,” those words were all he could say. To speak of his love for her would only open more wounds. Lex wanted to go fishing in the morning with club as he used to do when he hunted in the swamp. He needed to think.
Lex closed the door behind him and laid on the floor of his sitting room. Babette always loyal landed on his chest and gave him all the affection a spider could give. Sleep came slow to him and he wondered who would be next.