The rotten stench of things dead and decaying in the swamp, also never stopped as they rode onward. Sometimes it was less, sometimes it was worse. It was still morning, but the sun’s rays barely pierced the mist and darkness that surrounded them.

Gregor pulled hard on the reins to stop the wagon when he heard the command to halt from the advance riders. Then he heard the Hawk's remaining thief, Sa-sa, call out, “Trap. Stay left. Pit in the middle.” The column moved again when Tanadon shouted out, “Keep moving.”

When he reached the place where one of the leading fighters stood guard, blocking the center where the path widened, Gregor saw the reason. The wagon tracks hugged the edge and did not go through the smooth middle. It might be nothing more than a pit, but a deep enough pit would kill careless riders. It could also catch someone fleeing, trying to escape the swamp who forgot this was a trap and rode across the middle. The trap was also obvious. “Why?” Gregor asked no one in particular, as he looked up once more, his hands raising in a question. He tried once more to shake his thoughts into a pattern that made sense, but nothing came.

It was like he rolled a cup of dice and each die stopped on an edge, not a side. It didn’t add up to anything. Still, he followed the tracks and entered the path on the far side. He wasn’t going to chance any danger he could avoid.

Old trees lined the path out of the wide area. These trees had long, stringy, willow-like leaves hanging down almost to the ground. They blocked off the sight, but not the smell of the swamp. Or the insects that continued to plague them. The path twisted and turned all too often for Gregor’s liking. You couldn’t see what was very far ahead. There was no way to spot an attack, or trap, until you were in it, or it was on you.

The last rider was just out of sight of the trapped area when the attack launched, this time from above. Ebony creatures the size of large bucklers leaped from the trees towards the party, gliding and twisting in the air as they maneuvered to catch the riders. Black furred things the length of a large man’s forearm with four sharp clawed paws outstretched and a mouth in the middle of their belly that opened almost half their width. Worse, it was filled with several rows of sharp teeth. Men and horses screamed as the attack hit.

Gregor grabbed and raised his shield with both hands to block the first one to dive his way, knocking it aside and to the ground. That momentary respite gave him time to slip his arm through the straps and draw his sword. There were flashes of light as spells fried, split or just threw the creatures away from the party. Tanadon twisted left and right in his saddle, sending arrows out to skewer the creatures in the air before they could land on someone. From the sounds and screams, he wasn’t always successful.

Turning to protect himself and the priest, Gregor knocked another out of the air with his shield and spitted one that landed in the wagon and scuttled his way. “At least these things died when you gutted them.” The priest’s beads were also his weapon. They destroyed what they hit.

Looking around, he saw Okston had dismounted and was using both of his hand mauls to alternately knock the creatures out of the air, or crush the ones which landed. Shantaro had cast a protective bubble to shelter Areth, who was trying to heal their wizard, Walthor. He was covered in blood. Even the knight had dropped his visor and used his shield to protect his body and horse. There was a black smear on the white shield where a creature must have been batted aside.

A flash of light lit the path behind the wagon. It was accompanied by the cut off screams of man and horse. “Shit. The trap.” Gregor shouted and looked around, then behind, but in the confusion, he couldn’t tell who that had been. Okston’s mauls and Tanadon’s arrows finished the last of the creatures that were attacking them. Now they were just quivering dead meat lying about. So were several of the party members. Except for a few scratches, the horses were untouched.

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Areth stood and called out. “Their bite’s poisoned. If they bit or scratched you, I can heal you. It acts fast. Don’t wait.” There was silence.

Gregor scanned the area around the wagon again for more of the creatures and to see who survived. He’d been caught in an ambush once before, but it wasn’t as lethal as this was. Two, maybe three minutes of terror and blood, followed now by silence and bodies.

“Hawks, everyone, sound off. How bad are we hurt?”

Okston’s, “Alive,” was the only word he said as he moved among the dead. There were no dying people.

“Walthor’s hurt bad, but he’ll live.” Areth called out, “Shantaro held the ward after he was bitten, but he couldn’t hold it and heal himself. Give me a few hours and I can resurrect him. I’m out of Spirit right now. I have one of the hired fighters here. He protected us until Shantaro got the ward up, then he dragged Walthor in.”

The Hawk’s thief, Sa-sa, faded into view next to Tanadon. “I’m here and out of darts and throwing knives. The point men are dead. Those creatures swarmed them. There were more around the bend. Strange thing. They ignored the horses. I’ll get their mounts and bring them back.” He stumbled in exhaustion as he staggered back to where he’d been attacked.

Gregor waited to see if anyone else answered, but there was only silence. “Tanadon. The priest and I are unhurt.”

Tanadon acknowledged him with a nod and said, “Thanks for the warning. It helped.”

Rolf Redbeard was the last to respond as he came around the curve from the previous clearing. Black blood spattered his dark red armor. “That be a nasty trap back there. Nothing on the bottom but charred bones of man and horse. There be a little spit of land from this side, so if you be runnin’ away from them flying fang thingies, you be over the pit when you run out of ground. That new wizard looks like ground meat, but he got some of those things and he didn’t run. I give him that much.”

“You’re still too stubborn to die. Stay that way. Bring up the horses.” Tanadon told him. He still had his bow in his left hand, but each hand rested on a hip. His scowl as he looked at the living and dead reminded Gregor of a company leader he once had. He was never happy with anybody or anything unless he was yelling at them.

“I have tokens which will protect the bodies from decay and the creatures of the swamp.” The knight called out to Tanadon. “Stefanos can bring our wagon for the bodies tomorrow. We’ll see that they’re buried properly. At least those we can bury. We do this for those we can.”

“I told you we’re not going to die. Raytheda is the one who will die.”

Looking around at the carnage, the old knight’s wrinkled face sagging, “You will die. No one who seeks Raytheda to kill and steal from him survives.”

“Why didn’t those things attack you?”

“I told you. I’m warded from some of the traps Raytheda set. If I had attacked those creatures, they could have harmed me. That breaks the ward. I can defend myself and I did against one who flew into me. I don’t have a ward against the swamp creatures who aren’t traps. Those I’ll kill to defend myself. I cannot defend you, nor tell you of any traps along the way.”

“Will you stop us if we turn back and return more prepared?”

“No. I will not. But Raytheda’s spell sealed the path and swamp between the chest and my home. To open that seal, you have to continue to the place I bring the wagon. There is a bell that when rung summons Raytheda. It also opens the seal. Even I must ring it to leave the swamp. Unless….”

“Unless what Sir knight?”

“Unless you want to cross the swamp itself to the other side past the tower. That way is open.”

“Why should we believe you?”

Stiffening and bristling at the question, his voice hard as flint, his answer came. “Because I am a sworn Knight of Mabendus Aurias. And. We. Do. Not. Lie.”