Return to the Wetlands

The air grew hotter and much more humid the closer we got to the Wetlands. The twin suns hung high overhead, providing no shade whatsoever for us, which made the ride to Wayfaire that much more uncomfortable. Poor Lee was sweating like a pig as he rode along, but he still had a smile on his face so he didn’t seem to mind.

I was faring much better even though I was dressed in much more constricting clothing. My demonic body didn’t find the heat and humidity unbearable at all, instead seeming to be reinvigorated by it. Of course, I (that is, the human mind inside this lizard form) preferred the cooler weather in the southern parts of Armas. The climate down there didn’t feel as Hell-like as it did in the Wetlands.

The road Lee and I were following soon turned into a dirt path. Then that path turned into a well-traveled route through the grass and trees. And soon enough, that route turned into nothing. We had to make heavy use of the map and our compass to make our way forwards. Hopefully we were headed in the right direction towards Wayfaire and not trudging deeper into the swamps.

The first true obstacle in our way was a river that flowed south-east; it cut us off from the north and we had to cross it in order to reach deeper into the Wetlands. We got off our horses and began to lead them through the water. It started out well enough, with the water only going as high as our bellies, but soon the river got deeper and we had to swim across while leading our horses forwards. Lee’s horse seemed to panic a bit at being lead into deep water, but a few gentle words from the man got the animal swimming. Thankfully the river wasn’t very large, and we were able to cross the deeper areas quickly. Eventually, we reached the other side. Both us and our horses were soaking wet, but none the worse for wear.

“Let’sh camp out here for tonight and dry our clothes off,” I told Lee as we trudged onto the riverbank. “It getsh cold here at night, so we don’t wanna be in soaking wet clothes when the shun sets.”

“Sounds good,” Lee said, still grinning as he lead his horse out of the water.

We then set camp near the bank of the river, tying our horses to a nearby tree while setting a fire away from the heaps of dry grass that had sprung up near the water. Afterwards, Lee and I stripped to our skivvies (well, Lee did, I didn’t have underwear so I kept my trousers on.) and hung up our wet clothing to dry on some low hanging branches.

Lee settled into sharpening his knives while I checked on the status of my revolver. It had just taken a dunk in the river so the powder in the chambers must be mush. I needed to clean it out and replace the powder. I was all set on the performing the tedious task, too, except that when I examined the first chamber in the cylinder, I found that the powder was completely dry. I quickly checked the other cylinders only to find the same thing. Now usually I would put this down to sheer luck that water didn’t manage to get into any of the chambers. But then I realized that I had been extremely lucky with my guns ever since I came to Hell. For one thing, my guns never suffered from any malfunctions; they fired every shot every time I cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. I had no dry fires, chain fires, or cylinder jams occur, not once. That was unheard of.

An idea struck me at that moment, and I went over to the water with my gun. I then dunked the weapon into the water and held it under for about two minutes. After removing the gun from the river water, I checked each chamber.

Dry as bone.

This was amazing. How the hell was this possible? It was like… magic.

I then remembered what each of those status displays said whenever I made a new gun. “Magic Creation System,” it said. Personally, I had no idea what this meant. Could some being in Hell be watching over me? Or maybe God Himself is helping me out?

I have no clue. But I sure as hell ain’t gonna question it. Like they say: never look a gift horse in the mouth.

The night went by quickly and without incident. Lee insisted on taking the first watch, so I let him. I didn’t mind too much, as it let me watch the two suns rising which was always a sight to behold. In the morning we found our clothing pretty much dry so we suited up and went on our way.

It was on that day that we entered the Wetlands proper. The trail got muddier, the air much stickier; not to mention all the insects that tried to take a bite out of each of us. The general atmosphere got much heavier and it felt like we had traversed into the center of Hell itself. Who knew? We very well might have done just that.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The suns were low when we reached another river. This one was twice as wide as the previous one we crossed, which probably meant it was twice as deep. Since the suns were setting, Lee and I were in no mood to cross the river in the dark so we decided to set camp for the night and try a crossing in the morning. Lee took first watch again.

When morning came, we lead our reluctant horses over to the water. Just like before, we pulled the animals along by the reigns until the water got too deep for them to be walking. Then we lead them through the water, gripping the reigns while swimming.

We were halfway across the river when something happened. My horse suddenly dove underwater with such force that it dragged me down with it. I had the reigns wrapped around my hands, so I was easily dragged under. My second eyelid closed over my eyes and I was able to see clearly under the water. Blood was everywhere. I looked towards my horse and saw that it was in the jaws of one of those gator-fishes I encountered on my first day in Hell, only this one was five times as large! I de-tangled myself from the reigns and quickly swam away from the scene; there was no way I was going to mess with something so big. If it wanted my horse so damn bad, it was welcome to it.

I swam desperately for the riverbank, using my tail to propel me swiftly through the water. I got to land mighty quick, not wishing for any more of those gator fish to see me as an easy meal. As I trudged onto the bank, I looked back and saw Lee swimming for his life. His horse had also met the same fate as mine, only by two smaller gator fish. The two were fighting over the carcass, tearing it to pieces right there in the water.

By the time Lee got to shore, I was taking stock of our situation. We lost most of our supplies, such as food, water, and other provisions since they were all in the saddlebags. The same went for the majority of my gunpowder. All I had left was what was in the horn at my belt.

Our money situation was also perilous. I had left most of the heavy gold coins in my saddlebags. At the moment, I only had five gold on me, which included the two gold Lee got for selling my stuff in Fayson. This situation was a disaster.

We needed to get to Wayfaire fast, and on foot it would be difficult.

Lee, of course, took to the situation rather well. He just smiled and said, “Well, we better get a move on then.”

So Lee and I traversed through the Wetlands horseless and on foot. Thankfully, within a few hours of walking, we managed to find a well-worn trail that was headed in the right direction. It was about damn time we managed to find some good luck on this trip.

The trail was long, and the weather was hot. The one good thing about the river mishap was that our clothes were still wet, thus keeping us cool during our trek. We’d probably have to dry our clothes again come nightfall, but at the moment the soaked clothes were a respite from the heat.

The next two days were filled with nothing but heat and walking. It was so hot that even I was now starting to get bothered by it. Lee, who was sweating like a pig at this point, didn’t complain one bit. He just smiled and suffered through the hot weather in silence.

On the third day of our trek, we reached Wayfaire.

The town itself was a strange mix of dilapidated old buildings and ramshackle new abodes. It reminded me of one of the frontier towns that usually sprouted up back in the living world. According to Lee, I was partly right.

“Wayfaire was a frontier town built by the Kingdom of Malmont, well, when they were still around that is,” he explained. “Malmont wanted a foothold in the Wetlands. None of the kingdoms back then really had one, you see, and getting through the Wetlands can be tough as we just found out ourselves. Heh. Anyway, having Wayfair here was supposed to be Malmont’s claim to the Wetlands as their own territory. Nobody owned the Wetlands, you see. Well, nobody human.

“Only it didn’t work out that way. Diseases, dangerous wild animals, and the vicious natives kind of put a damper on things. Within a few years, Wayfaire was all but deserted; a failed experiment by the kingdom. Of course, you can’t just leave a whole town all by its lonesome out in the middle of nowhere like that. Eventually, neer-do-wells and rascals of all kinds used the place as their base. You know the type: pirates, bandits, riff-raff like that. Anyway, a few decades pass, and somehow these criminal types made the place work out, ya know? They were seated at the mouth of the Wetlands, and they found themselves trading with the local lizardmen tribes, which they then traded for the stuff they needed from the human nations.”

“So, Wayfaire’s what? A town run by brigandsh?” I asked.

Lee laughed. “Oh, nah. Nothin’ like that. They may have started out as outlaws, but the money running through this place kept ‘em all on the up and up, for the most part. Yep, compared to most places, Wayfaire’s mighty civilized.”

As we approached the town’s wooden gateway, I saw a skeletal tree by the walls. Hanging from the numerous branches were various bodies strung up by the neck. Most of them were human, but a few I could see had tails and green skin.

Civilized. Right.

“Ahoy!” Shouted a man from the top of the wall near the closed gates. “Looks like we got some visitors on the road. Welcome to Wayfaire, gentlemen!”

Well, if anything, my time here would definitely be interesting.