IV. Danger (Chapter One)

Dec 9

“So, your mother’s artifact is a heron’s egg?” Burt asks, gingerly lifting the hem of his cloak as he treads through mud.
“Well, that’s what Maeflorian thinks,” Soraya replies. She alone seems unbothered by the oppressive humidity and ankle-deep quagmire you find yourself traversing as the party makes its way east of Maeflorian’s treehouse. “And not any old heron’s egg. Hers was the egg of the Skullpicker. Maeflorian seems to think that the hatching of the egg will bring great fortune to the bearer.”

You and Burt exchange dark glances. You both remember the massive creature that had threatened you at the land bridge. Burt keeps his mouth firmly shut, no doubt remembering the sock across the ear Soraya had given him when he mentioned that giant omelets would be a great idea once her mother’s artifact was found.

“Eyes on the money, eyes on the money,” Burt murmurs to himself as he swats away mosquitos.

You keep your cloak around you tight, keeping as much skin as possible protected from the insects, but at the same time, dearly wishing you could strip down to escape the heat. You periodically check on your baby water bird, who nests comfortably in your hood.

“I’m really sorry, friends,” Soraya says suddenly. “These rainforests aren’t the friendliest of places. Non-natives usually don’t last a day or so.”
“You don’t say,” Burt sneers, as his foot catches a hidden tree root in the mud.

You grab the back of his cloak before he falls flat on his face. Burt looks as though he is about to unleash a tirade of profanity, so you cast a quick ice spell across his mouth. Soraya had warned you both not to make too much sound before setting off from the treehouse.

“Shhh.”

Soraya suddenly crouches, beckoning you to do the same. You pull down a thoroughly disgruntled Burt and wait. There is a faint clanking of metal in the distance.

“The armored guards of the Mudpearl Luxury. They’ll be protecting the frog hunting ground. We’re getting close. All my life, I spent petitioning against the ill-deeds of my family, and I know how ruthless those guards can be.”

Burt aims a fire spell at his mouth to free his lips.

“Do we really have to go see the giant frogs? I saw enough in that crazy dream, illusion thing back at ol’ lady Maeflorian’s.”
“We’re not just seeing the frogs, remember,” Soraya hisses back. “Maeflorian insists that Andromadus doesn’t have my mother’s artifact, otherwise all hell would have unleashed by now. So, this is our only lead. Or do you want to go find the Skullpicker instead?”

Burt shivers in response. After your restorative walk in the pleasant forests around the druidess’ home, you had all bugged Maeflorian for advice on how to proceed on your quest. Maeflorian mysteriously said that she couldn’t reveal too much, but said that your path lay with either the giant herons or the giant frogs. Neither sounded appealing, but after the land bridge incident, you and Burt had voted for the frogs.

“All paths converge into a singularity,” Maeflorian had called from her treehouse as the party left. “As surely as all rivers flow to the sea, the tides guide the waters to further unknowns. And those who have the Sight dare not disrupt the natural flow of the Pond. Be brave and go forth, adventurers!”
“I’d be braver if she could tell us exactly where to go next,” Burt had quipped.

You are brought back from your reverie by Burt tapping your shoulder.

“Looks like we’ll have to be mosquito feed, my friend,” Burt says, pointing to Soraya who had moved on. “Either that or froggie bait.”

Your party trudges onwards a bit more before Soraya stops dead. She bites her lips and turns around.

“What? What?” Burt says anxiously, crouching and peering about.
“No, nothing,” Soraya says. “Well, to be honest, I don’t have much of an idea of where we’re supposed to go.”
Burt’s mouth opens comically, but Soraya quickly says, “But that’s not to say I don’t have any idea. Oh no, I’m such a mess. That whole experience at Maeflorian’s house was really unsettling and I can’t think straight.”

You nod your agreement, but you have a feeling that Soraya has something else she wants to say.

“Yes, you’re right, Adventurer,” says Soraya. “If we go forward from here, we would run straight into the Mudpearl Luxury hunting grounds. There are guards everywhere and we would be risking our lives being caught there.”
“Not that we’re risking our lives right now,” Burt says.
“I don’t believe we would gain any new information there,” Soraya continues, giving Burt a cold look. “There’s only one other place, or…shall I say creature, whom we might seek out.”
“I have a terrible feeling about this,” Burt mutters. You shrug your shoulders, hoping this new thing will take you out of this boggy terrain.
“He is the undisputed ruler of the Marsh. Very secretive, but his network of spies all over the land means he practically doesn’t miss a beat. He might even know we’re within his borders already.”
“Pray tell us what this omnipresent monstrosity is.”

Soraya looks back at Burt with raised eyebrows.

“The King Frog.”

“Excuse me, there’s a King Frog now?” Burt splutters. “You mean those frogs from before weren’t quite big enough?”
“Shush, Burt.” Soraya rummages through her pack and extracts an extremely battered scroll.

Your eyes widen as you see a resemblance to Burt’s Phoenix Heart scroll. “

What I’m about to tell you is top secret. I’m about to perform a spell to help us find King Frog, but no whisker must ever know of my ability.”
“Uh, okay, but why are you telling us? You must think us extremely reliable,” Burt says, as he goes to sit on an exposed tree root but misses, ending up dunking himself in the quagmire. You reach down and pull your dripping friend to his feet. He smells terrible.

Soraya sighs deeply.

“Despite our obvious differences, we are both Marked by our elemental deities and bound together by the prophecy. I need to be frank with you, as I hope you will be with me. And Adventurer,” she turns to you, “I just get the feeling I can trust them.”

She examines the scroll carefully and utters a long string of words with her eyes closed. A shimmering wisp of golden smoke rises from the scroll and forms the shape of a beautiful bird; the Lyrebird. It flaps its ethereal wings and gently glides over the marsh, before stopping between the wide tree trunks.

“It wants us to follow it right,” Burt says, spluttering through his muddy lips.
“Well, yes,” Soraya says, taken aback by his abrupt remark.
“It’s heading towards the darker part of the forest.”
“So? We’re looking for the secret lair of a royal frog, not the vegetable patch of Maeflorian. Are you sure you bear the Mark of the Phoenix? For a Chosen one, you really do complain a lot.”

Burt turns red and mumbles something about not having the right cloak on for this part of the forest. You, on the other hand, are dying to know what spell Soraya had just cast.

“Indeed, Adventurer,” Soraya says, a little excited. “This is the secret spell of the Lyrebird. We call it the Watcher. Only bearers of the Mark can use it.”
“Oh, I have something like that,” Burt cuts in. “Allard taught me a spell that only Phoenix Mark bearers can learn.”

Soraya looks ready to bind Burt with a dark spell for interrupting, but her expression changes to that of genuine curiosity. “What spell might that be?”

“The Phoenix Heart,” Burt says proudly. “It’s like the ultimate healing spell. But I do completely drain myself of magic once I use it though.”

Soraya nods thoughtfully.

“Yes, marked spells are known to have a major draw-back. As does the Watcher. It is essentially a tracking spell. Once you cast it on a target, it remains on them for life, until you dispel it, without them ever knowing. You can only have one target at a time though and you can only dispel within relatively close quarters, so it’s not one to mindlessly spam. And there is one major disadvantage. If your target happens to perish before you can dispel it, then it rebounds to the caster as a curse and depletes your magic supply significantly, maybe even permanently.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Burt says, holding out his hands. The mud slops off his body as he waves his arms. “That means…you somehow laid the Watcher on the King Frog?”

Soraya gives one of her rare smiles.

“Actually, it was kind of an accident.”
“What?!”
“When I was just a fry, I was playing in these marshlands. My mother, who was raising me to be her successor, had just taught me the Watcher, but warned me never to use it without her permission. Of course, I got annoyed with her. Why teach me a spell for me to never use? Anyway, I was wandering around here, heading deeper and deeper into the forest, when I saw him. Just a glimpse.”
“You mean…the King Frog?”
“Yeah. Think of the largest thing you’ve ever seen. And then double it. He was like an entire island for goodness’ sakes. I was so scared, but an idea came over me. I just had to try out my new spell, you see. After I did it, I ran back to my mother but never breathed a word about what I did. She just thought I was being extra obedient when she never heard me complain about using the Watcher again. And all this time, I could just feel his presence in the Marsh. I can’t quite describe what that meant to me.”

You shake your head in amazement. Burt seems lost for words.

“To be honest, I wish I hadn’t though,” Soraya continues. “I wish I could have cast the Watcher on my mother before she, you know, disappeared. But who would’ve known my little prank would help me now on my quest to find her. So come on, let’s go find the King Frog!”

The smokey little golden Lyrebird is an easy enough target to follow, but the terrain is anything but. The mist has gotten so dense you can hardly see two steps in front, and the party is now wading chest-deep in unfathomably thick bog-water. The only thing providing any source of light is the odd flickerbug dipping at the water’s surface and your smoky guide wafting up above.

“Something bit me!” Burt yells, then a bright flash and a sudden ambient warmth in the water tells you that he has cast a huge fire spell at whatever attacked him.
“For the Old Wizard’s sake, please shut up,” Soraya hisses. “This is the most important part of the quest, and you can’t mess it up.”
“Mosquitos sucking my blood up here, Bitey Mcgee taking chunks from me there, and leeches keeping my toes company all the way down there,” Burt wails. “This is it, Soraya, this is the part where Burt heroically collapses from blood-loss and becomes part of the beautiful lifecycle of the bog.”

Soraya loses her cool and begins yelling at him with abandon. Burt bursts into tears and pulls off leeches from his feet to throw at her. You roll your eyes in exasperation and look to where the Lyrebird guide had gone, but you notice it has disappeared. Calling out in alarm, you wade forward to Burt and Soraya when an earth-shaking rumble knocks all three of you clean off your feet.

“Wha…what was that?” Burt gargles, emerging from the murky water.
“Oh, my dear Old Wizard,” Soraya exclaims, horrified.

The rumbling crescendos to an ear-splitting roar and the entire swamp suddenly upends. You, Burt, and Soraya are sent hurtling through the black, misty air and after what seems like an eternity of screaming, you plunge headfirst back into the dank waters. You flail to the surface and blindly yell for Burt and Soraya amidst the chaos, and your heart leaps as you hear their sodden cries in the vicinity. The baby bird in your hood is squawking in panic, but at least you know it is alive. You feel your way through the surging bog-water when a booming voice, like a great iron bell clanging at your ears, makes you freeze on the spot.