Water dripped from the ceiling, from the trees and vines, to fall into the dank water that pooled beneath, sending ripples across he surface, one in which weeds and water pads grew thick.

Through the waters waded two tall figures, the waters reaching their knees. Cautiously they pushed their way through, among the towering trees festooned with vines that grew thick about, towards a large building that was half drowned in the swamp. Foremost of the two was a dark haired woman, dark eyes keen as they surveyed the swamps about them, using a spear to aid her passage, testing the ground beneath the surface before her. A man followed after her, hair and beard a dark blonde. He was studying a large dragonfly that had come to rest on his arm, one of the many insects that buzzed and darted around above the surface of the water.

Everywhere was an oppressive, humid heat, and the air hung still and heavy. Mosses and fungus grew across the trunks of the trees, and covered the exterior of the building ahead of them.

Reaching the building, the woman pushed in through the open doorway, into the flooded room beyond. The dragonfly lifted an flew off as the man joined her.

Eyes adjusting for the gloom within, they looked down the length of the room, one in which a set of columns ran, supporting the roof. Despite the situation it found itself in, the building remained in remarkable condition, with carved friezes running around the interior walls, of men and beasts cavorting in dance and merriment, while patches of colour remained on the room where once painted murals had adorned it, of a dark blue upon which stars had been panted in gold. Only at the top of the walls, near the ceiling, were there any openings, small slits that let in a limited light.

Now vines tangled the columns and hung from the roof and the stagnant waters that covered the floor where thick with weeds. Drops of water dripped from the ceiling to disrupt the still waters.

At the far end of the building was a raised dais, one that protruded just above the level of the water, and upon it was a stone throne, on which a body sat.

The woman, Ivkarha of the Ra-Armal, of the desert lands, was out of her element in such wet and humid conditions, but bore it up with a stoic acceptance. “Who made this place?” she asked of her companion.

“I do not know, and nor do any I have spoken to either,” Aedmorn replied. “It is old and unknown.”

“They built to last, whoever they were.” She swirled away a patch of weeds with the butt of her spear, clearing a path ahead of them and started forward again, wading through the water. Down the long building they made their way, to clamber at last up onto the dais, water dripping from their trousers and boots as they did.

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The body on the throne had been long dead, and was not human either, for it looked much like a frog crossed with a man, with large bulbous eyes and the broad mouth of one, the long spindly fingers and the coarse, coloured skin. Hides had been wrapped around it as it sat on the throne, long dead eyes staring blankly ahead. In one hand it grasped a bronze knife while the other held a wooden sceptre into which had been set polished shards of obsidian and curved teeth. Around its neck hung a chain of bronze upon which was hung a large golden stone.

Despite the conditions, the body had not rotted or bore growth of mosses or fungi, evidence of some form of preservation being used before the body had been placed on the throne.

“Krithik shaman,” Aedmorn noted as he studied the body. “One of some importance too, if he has been placed here, and by the grave goods left with him.”

“They aren’t the builders of this place?”

Aedmorn shook his head. “Nay, they are a fairly primitive people, living in simple huts in the deep swamps, mostly using tools of stone and bone, hunters for the most part. But do not let that fool you, for they are canny traders, and cunning, knowing these parts better than any. As long as we do not disturb their sacred places, or the bodies of their elders, then they will show us no harm. They are, for the most part, peaceful.”

“I am surprised that none have tried to take this gem.”

“I have no doubt that some may have done so, but it would be best to not touch it, for this place will be watched.”

Ivkarha looked around, her face intent, searching out for any sign of watchers. “I see none,” she said.

Aedmorn nodded. “If you did, then it would only be if they wished you to do so.” Of a sudden, he began to make some noises that sounds remarkably like croaks, the sound echoing loud through the building.

There was silence again for a moment before an answering croak came and the waters in the corners of the room nearby to the entrance rippled and two frogmen emerged from where they had been submerged, their skin blending in with the dark waters and the reeds. They were not overly tall, standing little more than half the height of the two humans, both holding short spears tipped with sharpened bone. One had a necklace of teeth strung around his neck while the other bore one made of bright coloured feathers.

Ivkarha started to raise her spear at their sudden appearance, but Aedmorn raised a hand to ward it off. “If they had meant us harm, we would never have known about it,” he told her. “They wished to be seen.”

The two krithik frogmen slipped through the water with nary a ripple.

“You know their tongue?” Ivkarha asked.

“I have had dealings with them before and picked a word or two. Enough to get by.”

When the two krithik reached them, Aedmorn touched a hand to his lips and croaked another word. The two responded in kind before a series of croaks came from the feathered ones.

“What are they saying?”

“Introductions,” Aedmorn replied, then frowned as the one with the teeth necklace added something.

“Problems?”

“Not for us,” he replied. “Not exactly. They are having some troubles and wish for us to follow. I can not get the full of it, but there will be one that can.” He gave a reply and the two kirthik turned, to leave. “We are to follow,” Aedmorn said, and stepped down from the dais into the waters once more.