Rowan had discovered three important things about swamps.
First, everything was wet.
Second, everything smelled wet.
And third, apparently every insect in Althoria had personally decided his face was the perfect place to live.
BZZZZZZ.
Rowan swatted beside his ear.
“Got you!”
He opened his hand.
Nothing.
BZZZZZZ.
His eye twitched.
“Stop moving!”
Bjorn trudged several steps ahead, boots sinking into the mud with every step.
“You know yelling at them isn’t helping.”
“They started it.”
“They’re bugs.”
“They know what they did.”
Lyra pushed aside a curtain of hanging moss and glanced back at him.
“Careful, wind-boy. Keep swingin’ like that and ye’ll knock yourself into the drink.”
“I’m fine.”
SQUELCH.
Rowan’s boot disappeared ankle-deep into the mud.
He stopped.
Bjorn stopped.
Lyra stopped.
Rowan slowly looked down.
“Oh, come on.”
He pulled.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder.
The mud held tight.
“Little help?”
Bjorn crossed his arms.
“I thought you were fine.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Lyra leaned against a crooked tree, smiling.
“Could use the ladle.”
Rowan pointed at her.
“See? I knew I packed it for a reason.”
Bjorn grabbed Rowan beneath one arm while Lyra took the other.
“Ready?” Bjorn asked.
Rowan nodded.
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!”
They pulled.
Rowan’s boot came free with a deafening—
SLLLUUURRRRP!
The sudden release sent all three of them tumbling backward.
Rowan landed on Bjorn.
Bjorn landed in the reeds.
Lyra landed sitting upright in a shallow puddle.
For one very quiet second, nobody moved.
Then Harvey fluttered down onto a nearby stump.
The Frost Phoenix tilted his head.
Chirp.
Bjorn groaned beneath Rowan.
“If that bird laughs at me one more time…”
Rowan scrambled off him, trying desperately not to smile.
Lyra stared at the muddy water soaking through her clothes.
Her red hair hung across her face.
Rowan swallowed.
“So…”
Lyra slowly looked up.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Good.”
Bjorn rose and brushed mud from his sleeves.
“You look like a swamp monster.”
Lyra splashed him.
Bjorn yelped.
Rowan burst out laughing.
A second splash hit him square in the chest.
“Hey!”
“Crew sinks together,” Lyra said.
“That’s not a saying!”
“It is now.”
They continued deeper into the Mireling Marsh.
By midday, the path had nearly disappeared.
What remained twisted between dark pools, moss-covered roots, and trees that seemed determined to grow sideways instead of up.
Mist floated inches above the water.
Every now and then, something splashed beyond the reeds.
Rowan stopped reacting after the seventh time.
Mostly.
A frog suddenly leapt from beneath a leaf.
“AH!”
Mostly.
Bjorn laughed.
Rowan glared at him.
“It surprised me.”
“It was this big.”
Bjorn held his fingers two inches apart.
“It came out of nowhere.”
Lyra smirked. “Fearsome beast.”
Harvey hopped along a fallen branch above them, his claws leaving tiny prints of frost across the damp bark.
The farther they traveled, the quieter the marsh became.
Even the insects seemed to fade.
Rowan noticed first.
He slowed.
“Does it seem… weird to anyone else?”
Bjorn looked around.
“That describes this entire place.”
“No, I mean quiet.”
Lyra stopped.
The reeds swayed gently.
Water dripped from the trees.
Plip.
Plip.
Plip.
Nothing buzzed.
Nothing croaked.
Nothing moved.
Lyra’s expression sharpened.
“Aye.”
Rowan looked down at the muddy pool beside the trail.
The surface was perfectly still.
Too still.
Harvey suddenly spread his wings.
His feathers glowed brighter.
Bjorn reached for his axe.
“What is it?”
Harvey hissed.
Rowan had never heard him make that sound before.
Then—
BLOOP.
A bubble rose from the water.
Rowan froze.
Another followed.
Bloop.
Bloop.
Bloop.
Lyra took one step backward.
“Rowan…”
The pool exploded.
FWOOOOSH!
“WHOA!”
A massive vine burst from the muddy water, whipping through the air.
Rowan dove sideways.
THWACK!
The vine slammed into the trail where he had been standing, splattering mud across everything.
Bjorn drew his axe.
“What in the—”
Another vine shot from the water.
Bjorn swung.
CLANG!
The axe struck something thick and rubbery.
The vine recoiled.
Then five more rose behind it.
Rowan’s jaw dropped.
“That’s a lot of arms.”
The water churned violently.
Mud bubbled upward.
Slowly, something enormous lifted itself from beneath the surface.
Its body looked like a giant octopus sculpted from swamp muck and tangled roots. Thick vines curled outward from a round, muddy center. Moss clung to its back. Broken branches stuck from its sides like crooked spikes.
Two glowing yellow eyes opened beneath a curtain of weeds.
Lyra stared.
“Well.”
Rowan glanced at her.
“You know what that is?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“But I know I don’t like it.”
The creature let out a wet, bubbling roar.
GRRROOOOORRRP!
Mud sprayed from its mouth.
Bjorn wiped his face.
“I definitely don’t like it.”
One vine snapped forward.
“MOVE!” Rowan shouted.
The three scattered.
The Rootopus slammed its arm into the ground.
CRASH!
The trail cracked apart.
Water rushed across Rowan’s boots.
He planted his feet and thrust out one hand.
“Wind!”
A blast erupted from his palm.
FWOOOSH!
The gust struck the creature directly.
Mud flew from its body in thick clumps.
For a second, Rowan grinned.
“Yes!”
Then the Rootopus leaned forward.
Its body rippled.
The mud Rowan had blown away simply flowed back into place.
Rowan’s smile vanished.
“Oh.”
Bjorn charged.
“Then we chop it!”
He raised his axe and brought it down on one of the vines.
THUNK!
The blade buried itself halfway through.
The Rootopus shrieked.
Bjorn grinned.
“Got you!”
The severed vine suddenly twisted around his waist.
Bjorn blinked.
“…That’s bad.”
WHOOSH!
He disappeared into the air.
“BJORN!”
The Rootopus flung him across the marsh.
Bjorn crashed through a bush.
CRACK!
A flock of tiny green birds burst into the sky.
There was a pause.
Then Bjorn’s hand rose from the leaves.
“I’m okay!”
Rowan sighed in relief.
The Rootopus swung again.
He ducked.
The vine passed so close over his head that the wind from it flattened his hair.
Lyra hurled a small glass vial.
“Duck, lad!”
Rowan dropped.
The vial shattered against the creature.
PFFFT!
A cloud of bright orange powder burst across its face.
The Rootopus recoiled.
Its eyes squeezed shut.
Rowan stared.
“What was that?”
“Pepperroot!”
The creature sneezed.
HAAARRRSHOOO!
A wave of muddy water blasted forward.
Rowan was thrown backward and landed flat on his back.
Lyra wiped swamp water from her face.
“…Usually works better on people.”
Bjorn charged back out of the bushes.
“Maybe we should stop making it angry!”
Another tentacle shot toward him.
He rolled beneath it and hacked at the vine.
Rowan scrambled upright.
Think.
The creature was mud, roots, and water.
Wind didn’t hurt it.
Bjorn could cut the vines, but they kept moving.
Lyra’s powders only made it sneeze.
Harvey circled overhead.
The Frost Phoenix swooped low.
A vine snapped upward.
“Harvey!”
Harvey twisted in the air and narrowly avoided it.
His wings flashed blue.
FROOOOSH!
A burst of frost struck the vine.
Ice spread instantly across its surface.
The Rootopus jerked.
The frozen vine went stiff.
Then—
CRACK!
It shattered.
Rowan’s eyes widened.
“Bjorn!”
Bjorn looked over.
“Yeah?”
“Harvey froze it!”
Bjorn glanced at the broken vine.
A grin spread across his face.
“Oh.”
Lyra’s eyes lit up.
“Oh, that be clever.”
The Rootopus roared again.
Rowan pointed toward Harvey.
“Freeze the arms!”
Harvey chirped sharply.
He climbed into the air.
The Rootopus raised three tentacles after him.
“Now!” Rowan shouted.
Harvey folded his wings and dove.
Blue light gathered around his feathers.
Then he spread them wide.
WHOOOOM!
A wave of freezing air swept across the marsh.
Frost raced over the water.
The first vine froze.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The Rootopus thrashed wildly.
Rowan planted his feet.
Wind curled around his boots.
His cloak snapped behind him.
He raised both hands.
“Bjorn!”
Bjorn understood immediately.
He lifted his axe.
“Do it!”
Rowan drew in a breath.
The air around him tightened.
Leaves began spinning.
Mist twisted into spirals.
The wind answered.
“WIND—GO!”
BOOOOM!
The blast tore across the marsh.
It slammed into the frozen vines.
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
Ice shattered through the air like glass.
Bjorn charged through the storm of frost.
He jumped onto a half-submerged log.
Then another.
Then launched himself toward the Rootopus.
“HEY, MUD FACE!”
The creature turned.
Bjorn brought the flat side of his axe down.
THWAAAAACK!
The blow struck the creature square between its glowing eyes.
Its entire body wobbled.
Once.
Twice.
Then collapsed.
SPLAAAAASH!
Mud and water exploded outward.
Rowan threw up both arms.
A second later, the wave hit him.
SPLAT.
Silence returned.
Rowan stood completely covered in mud.
Only his eyes were visible.
Bjorn sat on the remains of a frozen vine, breathing hard.
Lyra slowly wiped mud from her cheek.
Harvey landed neatly on a branch.
Perfectly clean.
Rowan looked up at him.
“Oh, sure.”
Harvey chirped.
“Not one speck?”
Chirp.
“That’s not fair.”
Bjorn started laughing.
Lyra joined him.
Rowan tried to stay annoyed.
He lasted about two seconds.
Soon all three were laughing in the middle of the swamp.
Behind them, the remains of the Rootopus slowly dissolved into ordinary mud and vines.
Bjorn finally caught his breath.
“So…”
He looked at Rowan.
“Still hate the marsh?”
Rowan glanced at the mud dripping from his sleeves.
“Yes.”
They found cleaner water farther down the trail.
A narrow river wound through the reeds, its current slow and clear compared with the muddy pools around it.
Rowan knelt at the edge and splashed water across his face.
“Ohhh, that’s better.”
Bjorn dunked both arms into the river.
Lyra crouched beside a cluster of reeds and cleaned her satchel with far more care than she had cleaned herself.
“Please tell me nothing broke,” she muttered.
She checked one vial.
Then another.
Then—
She froze.
Rowan noticed.
“What?”
Lyra wasn’t looking at her bag anymore.
Her eyes were fixed farther down the riverbank.
Between two twisted roots, something glowed beneath the shadow of the reeds.
Soft green light pulsed near the water.
Lyra slowly stood.
“No way…”
She pushed through the cattails.
Rowan and Bjorn followed.
Growing along the riverbank were thin strands of curling green plants. Their leaves were narrow and almost translucent, glowing faintly from within.
Each strand swayed despite there being no wind.
Bjorn leaned closer.
“What is it?”
Lyra dropped to her knees.
For once, she had no joke ready.
Her eyes shone with disbelief.
“Gilliweed.”
Rowan crouched beside her.
“Gilli-what?”
Lyra carefully touched one glowing leaf.
A ripple of green light traveled down its stem.
Then she looked up at him.
And slowly smiled.
“Now this,” she said, “might just save our lives.”