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Ch. IV
A wicked gnarled finger. Nail black and chipped. It points at her shaking. A wicked vile laugh Comes from the hideous bent creatures behind the finger. Eye black shadows of hate. The sound hurt. No, everything hurts. Everything right down to---
…the baby coming from her nethers. She screams which only seems to work the laughter into even more of a frenzy of hysteria.
Then Samanth is back. Did she wake? The room is dark and smells of dank earth, green grass, and wet, thick humidity. She is home, the royal greenhouse, a vast complex of grow rooms on the palace grounds. She reaches out and a finger grazes across the smooth flesh of her partner on the opposite side of the thin mattress. She is comforted that Laurel is still there. The Sunwarrior often disappears when she feels the pull of her God.
Tonight, she stayed, and seeing the sleeping form under their blanket makes Samanth happy.
Laurel is tall and tough. She has been trained from early childhood to be a defender for the SunGod and Samanth is certain just on the other side of the mattress is her gleaming silver longsword with its red leather-wrapped hilt and golden sun pommel Waiting to be needed.
Laurel moans as if dreaming and Samanth wonders if the warrior’s mind is replaying some battle she waged long ago. She never tells what it is she dreams about. Smanth is the opposite. It is actually driving her insane she can’t share what she just dreamt about. It’s the way of her ilk to be haunted by the deeds they do for their God but never discuss it out loud. When Laurel wakes, she will not talk about the images that flood her sleep even when Samanth pushes and prods, but the molluscomancer has learned she would rather not know the things her lover has seen and done.
Grisly work, that.
The dream that woke Samanth still pushes her heart to beat painfully against her ribs. She snatches at images before they fade completely.
It is not the first time this dream has assaulted her.
She allows her memory to take her back. Around her is a slime-covered swamp. Wicked twig-like trees and a green, sick sky. A hunched woman, something otherworldly about her like an ageless cruelness, slides raw meat between the slats of a rusty cage.
A small hand reaches out and takes the meat and Samanth knows it is her the girl that was taken. The hand is dirt-smeared and shaking and belongs to a girl who disappeared. A girl who belongs on the throne and not the spoiled moron who currently soils it.
The meat looks like raw pork, pools of blood drip from it, but Samanth sees the faint outline of a tribal tattoo etched deeply into the muscle. It looks like it might be the symbol of one of the barbarian clans to the North. The small hand holds the flesh up and rips a bite free.
The hag opens her mouth revealing black rotted teeth. Her mirthless eyes glinting with a murderous lust and hate. Samanth realizes the monster is laughing, again, the sound is a hideous caw-caw-caw-caw like a bird choking.
She nearly screams when the warm hand of her partner finds her lower back.
“Again?” Laurel asks, in a sleep-thickened voice.
“Yes,” Samanth shivers.
The Sunwarrior rubs the taut muscles of Samanth’s back before swinging her legs out from under the quilt to sit cross-legged next to her, “Tell me what you saw.”
Samanth describes the images, the green sky, scraggly lifeless trees, the hag. “Do you think it’s her?”
The Sunwarrior closes her eyes and whispers a small prayer and a soft, warm light fills the room floating above them like a small heatless sun, “Who else could it be?”
“But why me?”
“You have a way with small things, my dear molluscomancer.”
She has a way with snails. Why her powers manifested like that is anyone's guess, but it helped with her life's work. “I am a simple gardener.” Samanth finds a small snail crawling up her naked calf. It leaves a trail of slime in its wake. She plucks the Mullosk off and holds it in her palm. The snail is content to sit there wiggling its fleshy antennae-like eyes at her. Samanth sighs and puts the snail on the ground.
“You are a wielder of the strangest magic I have ever encountered, yet that does not make you simple. At least not to me”
Samanth turns, “I am going after her.”
"No you’re not,” Laurel says, ”We both are."
The Temple of the Sun doesn’t believe in time off so there is no reason to even ask for it. Instead, Laurel heads to her quarters in the rectory grabs her kit, and heads to the stables. The stable boy doesn’t ask. He helps her saddle and prep the war stallion and if Laurel turned back she would likely see him standing there watching after, maybe even wishing a great victory for the Sungod.
When she catches up with Samanth, she sits a giant snail. She named the beast Nelly and it is one of her greatest magical achievements. Her saddle is nestled just between the shell and the upward slope of its neck. She leans back enjoying the warmth of the day and is just drifting off to sleep when Laurel catches up.
"Whoreson of the moon, that thing can move." Laurel is dressed in the golden armor of her order. Her red vestments bedecked with an orange and yellow flaring sun, the same symbol that is etched on her thick oak shield.
Her black mare froths with exertion.
“It took an hour of hard riding to catch you and it looks like yo were napping. She snorts as if the reality of it is beyond her. She removes her helm and her ginger hair falls free as she wipes at her sweating brow with the hand not on the reins.
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"The Blightedwood is near. We should rest here for the night," Samanth suggests, smiling while appreciating the setting sun's glow behind her lover.
They have been West all afternoon and covered a lot of really good distance. They followed the Great River North until sunset and camped for the night. Smanth grow stink weed to mask their scent and both sleep well.
The next morning and the few that follow are all the same. Boil water for tea. Linger over fruit and nuts and then ride till the sun disappears. As they move the landscape changes subtly and the closer they got to the swamp less verdant things are. From green woods in the foothills of the northern Mountains to the golden wheat-strewn plains to now standing on the bank of the last freshwater lake before the haunted marshland.
Laurel dismounts and stretches. After a brief run she comes back to camp and removes the mare's saddle and blanket. She is brushing the animal down when Samanth does the same. Except her chore is as simple as holding out her hand. The giant snail shrinks into nothing and she puts it in her pack closes the lid and gives it a small pat.
They head toward the banks of Lake Howerd together. The blue water laps against a reed-filled bank as the sun hits the horizon bursting into hundreds of shades of reds, pinks and oranges. Samanth turns to the lake, "fish for dinner?"
"Sure, sounds better than snails."
Throwing a disdainful look over her shoulder Samanth goes to the water's edge and compels a wiggling salmon to leap from the water into her hand.
While her partner fishes, Laurel builds a small fire. She banks it to hide the flames from the road and mixes a small amount of flour, salt, and water in preparation to bake a few pieces of flatbread.
Samanth returns with two gutted fish and a fistful of watercress. She stakes the salmon and leans both over the fire to roast. Soon the air is filled with the aroma of roasting lox and hot stone baked bread.
When dinner is ready, Samanth layers the top of two pieces of unleavened bread with the watercress and then the cooked fish.
The women dig in devouring the meal bones and all.
Afterward, they lean back and sip on stinging nettle tea and stare into a star-strewn sky enjoying a comfortable silent exhaustion.
Samanth finds herself drifting off into sleep when the mare snorts in alarm.
Laurel shoots to her feet, exposed sword glinting in the firelight.
From out of the night, a man wearing the uniform of King’s Guard appears. He is young and has red hair. In the orange glow, his fuzzy bearded face wrinkles into a mischievous smile and tips his hand to his forehead, "I greet you with the sign of the Traveling God.”
“We great you back with the light of God’s love.” Laurel stands not defensively, easily putting her sword hip between herself and the youth. Smanth is certain he noticed the well crafted Sunblade there.
“We have a paladin also,” he points over his shoulder. “He is back at camp. Asked me to invite you to share our fire.”
Laurel relaxes her stance, "As a courtesy to your God, please ask your paladin to join us at our fire."
The youth man nods in thanks and disappears into the dark.
In less than five minutes he returns with the biggest dwarf Smanth has ever seen. They settle close to the fire, "might there be any dinner left. I can trade a salve that works wonders for sore muscles. He removes a small leather wrapped square. He holds it between index and thumb holding it out.
"No need for a trade, fair traveler, I will happily provide you with a morsel." Samanth steps into the dark, returning moments later with two large, flopping bass. She repeats the steps from previously and soon enough hands their guests a fish sandwich each.
As they eat Smanth studies te dwarf’s face scrunching as if trying to pull free a scrap of meat from her teeth with her tongue, "might I know you?"
"Curse my manners.' The dwarf lements, "You can call me Geon, I am sire to the King of Balanor. This is Manifred a smithy’s boy. We are arrived to take a pigman home. Might I inquire as to what you might be doing on the cusp of the most dangerous land this side of the Purple Mountains”
"Ser Geon?”
The Paladin of Moroden nods.
“I am Laurel Soldier of the Sungod. And this is the royal botanist.”
“Out catching some plants Madam?” he asks back while munching on his own sandwich.
"Yes, I mean no. We have come to rec---”
The girl in green wool silences her travel partner, No it is probably best you don’t know are business!"
"Of course,’ he chuckles, a secret gardening mission is what brings a sunwarrior and a gardener this far south."
"We look for something that has gone missing." Laurel offers.
Smanth stares daggers into her for the betrayal.
"Everything is lost in Blightedwood. May I inquire as to what you seek?" Geon questions. The voice calm and reassuring and Smanth finds herself wanting to trust him.
“A question for you first, Paladin."
“I am happy tot satisfy your curiosity.”
"'Your quest paladin, does it involve a girl?" she continues, ignoring the look of disgust on Smanth’s face.
"No, just a pigman. Tell me more about this missing girl that might be in our nasty little swamp. Perhaps I can help.” Geon offers sounding unsure.
"Noble pursuit, that. Though I fear time is short and to make much of a difference we are really going have to luck into some solid information or end up lost forever in there,” Lauren says chin jutting to the dark insult a mile or so away.
"How do you mean?"
“The Blightedwood is growing. We think a hag is reproducing. She has taken a girl from Balanor.”
Geon turns stern, “One life is not worth two. Go back to Capitol. Forget this nonsense. He tosses the remaining bit of bread and fish into his mouth and stands as if that settled everything.
Samanth looks at Laurel. A part of her hoping that with this news her partner will change her mind and demand they go home to their little room in the middle of the greenhouse filled with their things, cozy and smelling of her work, green fresh flowers and plants, her snails, her tools. Why is she here? Why did Laurel make her come?
“What you seek is likely as deadly as it is the sun will rise tomorrow morning."
The mancer coughs, "We have no choice. We are being called to help." Despite her misgivings, Samanth finds herself in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Time for sleep, my dear," Geon says. “Camp with up tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss your options and this missing girl.”
Manfried and Geon help the woman move their stuff, it is a quick ten-minute trot to the Paladin’s camp. They set up their tent and after getting the bedding out of her bottomless bag, Samanth settles her head onto the paladin's lap and is quickly asleep.
Laurel is left alone with her thoughts. She senses the same wavering darkness but this time it feels so close it sears her mind. As if something maligned were searching for them, but was unable or unwilling to leave the shadows of its home. Laurel closes her eyes and feels it pacing, waiting for a chance to strike. If she were traveling alone, she would go meet the creature now. In fact, if the Ser Geon hadn't shown up, she might have left Samanth asleep and sought it out.
Keeping her eyes closed, she concentrates on the blackness creeping at the cusp of the blight. Tomorrow, or soon, she will go meet it, but tonight she will guard those who sleep because she is a sunwarrior, and protection from the darkness is her primary mission.