Whispering Woods

CHAPTER 14

Gull rapped his axe handle against the chuck wagon, the women's wagon, the astrologer's, even Towser's, chipping the paint.

"Rouse! Rouse! We've lost someone! Stiggur, build up the fire! High! We'll need a beacon to get back!"

People spilled from wagons and instantly cursed the hordes of insects. Gull shrugged on his leather tunic, slathered on more pennyroyal, grabbed his whip and axe, lit a torch of folded birch bark shoved into a hickory handle. After a hurried explanation, he dashed to the swamp's edge. Torch high, he hunted along the shoreline.

He recalled the muddy bottom with its reeds and grasses extended a way, then pools of open water took over. Past them started weird twisted trees, cypresses, Morven called them, with knobby upthrust roots like knees, and branches festooned with vines and grapes. Those curtains cut off any more sights.

But clear were the will-o'-the-wisps, bobbing and weaving, teasing like children playing hide-and-seek.

Seek, he thought, surely. For he found Kem's footprints, deep holes in the mud where his boots had stuck. Fifty feet into the grass, he found a boot. Gull swore: leaving something vital proved Kem was mesmerized.

The woodcutter took care not to look directly at the lights. It was dangerous as looking at the sun.

When the black mud became too plocky, Gull shucked his wooden clogs and hurled them toward shore. Cold mud oozed between his toes, but at least he could walk. He thrashed through saw grass that cut his legs. Dripping water and mud, hoisting his legs high-they'd ache soon-he heard splashing behind.

Chad followed with another torch. He carried a crossbow and short sword.

Beyond his flickering light, Gull glimpsed Greensleeves. "Go back, damn it!"

Chad shouted, "He's my friend and I'll rescue him! What the hell do you care about Kem anyway?"

"Not you!" Gull tried to turn, but was stuck fast. In fact, standing still, he began to sink. "I meant my sister, damn it! And Kem might be a prick, but he doesn't deserve to wander in a swamp till he dies! No one does! Greenie, go back!"

His sister ignored him. She had enough sense to tuck up her tattered skirts and walk parallel to the men's footprints so she didn't sink. Her legs were black to the thigh. Gull gave up yelling. Short of tying her to a tree, he couldn't stop her. He'd just have to watch front and back.

He tried to recall the legends of will-o'-the-wisps. Back in White Ridge, they sometimes appeared in summer three years in a row, then disappeared for three years or more. No one knew what they looked like up close. Folk who watched too long became mesmerized, walking toward the lights. If restrained, they fought like wildcats to go on, had to be tied in a closed barn until dawn, then watched each night else they pursued anew. What the lights wanted, no one understood. It was whispered they lured victims to wander until they died, where their corpses would feed the swamp itself. But no one knew for certain.

Queerest of all, only people became entranced. Animals ignored the lights. What did that mean? Again, no one knew. It was just something to speculate on through long winter nights.

Perhaps tonight, thought Gull, he'd learn. Whether he'd survive was another matter…

Oddly, the woodcutter found the pools easy to traverse. The bottoms were solid but slick claypans. He welcomed the chance to walk more easily and wash off rotted-green mud.

Until he discovered his legs peppered with leeches.

He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, fought the urge to run ashore. He ripped at the slimy bumps, but they stuck fast, greedily sucking his blood. Gull gave up, shut them from his mind. Maybe they'd make his sister turn back. As for Chad, let him get eaten.

Slogging, lurching over treacherous ground, juggling the torch so it wouldn't fall-extinguish and leave him in blackness-he reached the first cypress. With his axe he slashed to part the tough vines and grab the bole, but the woody knees were slippery.

Nothing was easy in this godsforsaken swamp, he thought. No place for mortals. Further, he couldn't track Kem. He might have gone anywhere.

Which meant Gull could only steer for the dancing wisps. Tempting death.

Growling, swearing, he glanced quickly at the wisps, looked away, then turned that way. Chad came behind.

Greensleeves, he was astounded to learn, was ahead of him.

The girl had flipped her soggy skirts over her shoulders. Her bare bony behind glowed like a small moon. She, too, was dotted with leeches, but fewer than Gull bore. And when she scratched, they dropped off. More of her strange power, he thought. Even insects respected her link to nature, plagued her less than clear-headed folk.

Somehow she'd circled a hundred feet beyond, almost out of the torchlight.

Gull shouted for her to slow down. She cruised on, light as a deer. He was forced to steer after her now.

But who knew? Maybe she tracked Kem. Maybe with her otherworldly vision, she could see what he couldn't.

Checking that Chad followed, Gull cursed and hopped and floundered after her. Maybe idiocy was its own queer blessing -or maybe not.

Greensleeves shrilled like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Gull bellowed.

Green-slimy skinny man-shapes swarmed over his sister.

Some dropped from trees, some skipped across roots, and two erupted from the water like bass leaping after dragonflies. Three grabbed Greensleeves's arms, one her legs, and they pulled.

In different directions, squabbling the while like a catfight.

Gull had seen this before. The tiny goblins had argued like this. Maybe these creatures were cousins.

Howling, wishing for his longbow, Gull scrambled onto a root, slipped, jumped for another. But he raced like a snail after spiders, him plodding while the big goblins flitted across water and roots and vines.

For despite their haggling, they dashed off with their prize. The horde melted into the night, away from Gull and his wavering torch.

As Gull clutched at vines, Chad came level, raised his crossbow. It twanged and thunked. Gull batted his bow up. "You'll hit my sister!"

"Ha! Not likely! Look!"

Indeed, one shrieking goblin was pinned through the guts to a cypress trunk. Splashing in water, slipping on roots, clawing aside vines, the men bulled up to it.

By torchlight, the thing was so ugly it hurt to look at it. Gray-green skin, pointed ears, lank black hair. So skinny its ribs and hipbones showed, it was naked, covered with warts and leech scars. The crossbow quarrel had pierced its hip, and it screeched as it tried to pull free, slimy hands slipping on the shaft.

"Sedge trolls," Chad muttered. "Halfway between goblins and orcs."

Vaguely, Gull wondered if these trolls were in league with the will-o'-the-wisps. Or were actually the wisps, using some light trick. Or simply followed the wisps, waiting for a mesmerized victim. Then he pushed that aside.

"Where have they taken my sister?" he demanded of the monster.

Clutching a tree bole to keep his footing, Chad growled, "You won't get answers. They're animals. No minds."

And before Gull could act, the mercenary smashed the thing's head against the tree with the stock of his crossbow.

The troll was tough. One dirty ear dribbled blood, but it shook its head, only dazed. Chad hauled off and smashed again, crushing its skull. The troll slumped to hang on the bolt.

Shocked, Gull demanded, "Why do that?"

"To save another arrow," Chad tsked. "Come on, we've got to find Kem."

"And my sister."

Together they waved torches and cast about. Gull pointed out a gap in grapevines. They shoved through, Gull in the lead, axe held close to bat at foliage, and make a quick strike.

Blundering through vines, duck walking on aching knees and ankles, slapping at insects, cursing as the torches fetched up, the men pressed on. At one point they heard a faint scream-a man's-quickly cut off.

Mincing around tree stumps into ever-thicker bracken, they touched solid ground. An island. Gull discovered a path no wider than a deer's, and they slid along it. Another scream split the air. Chad grunted when they smelled a cooking fire like burning garbage.

There were no troll guards, and soon whiskers of fire showed through the vine curtains. They extin-guished the torches in a puddle, crept over chaff and trampled bracken.

It was no village, just a clearing two arm spans' wide. The firepit was a circle of rocks. Bones and waste littered the ground along with heaps of rotted grass for beds.

Gull burst onto the scene first, Chad squeezing behind.

Greensleeves was mashed facedown in a pile of grass. On her back sat four trolls pinning her hands. Close by the fire, five more, male and female, sat on Kem's back. One gray-haired hag plied a rusty knife blade to saw through the bodyguard's elbow. Blood spurted as far as the fire, making it smoke with a brassy stink.

The two rescuers couldn't believe the trolls' surprise. Green faces turned up, crooked jaws dropped, eyes popped. Gull realized they were dumb as dumb dogs.

Then he swung his axe, and trolls died.

Yelling for Chad to keep clear, the woodcutter whipped the double-bitted axe behind, fetched up slightly in vines, then swung with a grunt and heave.

The axe blade sheared through the troll with the knife. Like a punky stump, his skull flew apart, spewing blood and brains. The blade carved through two more trolls and thudded into a fourth. The others were already scampering away.

They didn't get far. Something burst into the clearing from the opposite side. Long, low, wide, gray-furred and striped. Gull saw a flat partistriped head, then white teeth flashed and snapped shut on a troll's leg, severing it.

It was a badger big as a mule.

Chad ducked to Gull's off side, circled the fire, ran straight at the trolls atop Greensleeves. But he balked as the giant badger spit out a leg to scurry after another victim.

It wasn't hungry, Gull realized. It attacked to kill, the same way it pursued chickens. Like a thick-bodied snake, it raced on short legs after a troll that shrilled like a mouse.

Trolls boiled everywhere. Chad stabbed a female through the chest, kicked her jaw to free his blade. He stamped for footing, jabbed at others that squirmed and dived and clawed to get clear like maggots off meat. He skewered one more troll through the back before the clearing emptied but for the dead.

And dying. The badger clamped jaws on a troll, snarled and snapped and shook its head till blood gushed around its whiskers.

The bodyguard aimed his sword at the beast as a precaution. "Where did that come from? Una's Udders, that's a big badger!"

"This island must verge on high ground, all the way across the swamp," suggested Gull.

Stepping to the firepit, the woodcutter jiggled brands with his axe to brighten the flames, to see if they scared off the badger. The beast just fed, growling the while. Squatting, careful of jaws and claws, Gull grabbed his sister's foot and towed her clear.

Muzzily, she sat up, then clawed into his arms. Gull pried her loose for an inspection, found nothing wrong except fright. He patted and soothed her, asked about Kem.

The scar-faced man could sit up. The trolls had almost smothered him, and he wheezed for air. His arm leaked blood. Chad sliced his shirttail, made a bandage to stanch the bleeding. Still holding Greensleeves tight, Gull helped Chad get Kem on his feet.

Still groggy, Kem croaked in Gull's face, "Don't expect me to thank you."

Gull thought of many replies, picked the most insulting. "You're welcome."

Days later, Gull still mulled aloud. "Damned funny the way that badger showed up all of a sudden."

Rocking beside him on the wagon seat, Lily shrugged. "It was just a big animal. The trolls were bigger than goblins, maybe things grow larger in that swamp."

"But this badger-oh, it was big!-was clean! It even had yellow sand stuck to its fur, not mud! No leeches, and we were covered with 'em! It must have-"

"You told Chad the island rose to higher ground. It just came out of its burrow after trolls. What's so strange?"

"But it-" Gull paused to shout his mules around a rockslide.

They'd left the swamp behind. Along its southern edge, Towser had located his black lotuses. He spent the morning touching them and sketching in his grimoire, while the entourage swatted bugs.

The track grew firmer as they approached the hills, and they'd found a pass in an old riverbed. They had to circumvent large rocks, or lever them aside, but they made good time. The hills at either hand were grassy, with pockets of hardwood trees that sheltered mule deer and goats and stunted bison that made the horses snort in fright. From the crest of each hill they saw more hills, but then they ended abruptly. White birds wheeled there, and Towser said they approached the ocean.

The white birds, he told his freighter, were sea gulls-his namesake. Gull was eager then. He'd never seen the sea or a sea gull.

Someone else was eager, too. For the first time ever, Greensleeves took interest in her surroundings. A hundred times a day she stuck her head between Gull and Lily to peek at the countryside. Then she'd clamber over the cookware and cook and cook's boy to look out the back. She'd climb out, run 'round the wagon, pick up a rock or stalk of grass, show it to her brother, point to the distant deer and bison, chatter, climb back aboard, peek past his shoulder again.

"What's she looking at?" asked Lily.

"It beats me," Gull shrugged. "She's got her eye on something. Maybe those deer with the big ears, maybe something we can't see."

Greensleeves shoved a bunch of wildflowers into Lily's hand. Tiny buds formed a cloud of white. Baby's breath, Gull knew from his mother's garden. He told Greensleeves the name and saw her brow knit.

"She looks like she's thinking," Lily murmured.

"So does a mule just before he kicks," said Gull. But he had to agree. Greensleeves acted strange, even for someone "blessed with the second sight."

The next day, they crested a rise and saw the ocean.

Gull hauled on the reins in shock. It was so blue, and wide, and vast! Islands dotted the horizon and, to the south, formed a long yellow line. Ships, the first he'd ever seen, ghosted across the water like great wooden swans.

Lily laughed. "It's deep, too. Over your head."

"Don't tease," Gull chided. "It's just so much to look at!"

Again the dancing girl laughed, and adjusted the hood of her jacket, dug from a chest in her wagon, for a stiff breeze with a tang of salt blew in their faces. "I'm sorry. I'm just used to it. I was born in a seaport. My mother was a whore, like me."

"Stop," said Gull, and took her hand.

Greensleeves popped between them. She burbled like a badger as she stared at the blue. Lily laughed at her astonishment, told her, "Sea. Seeeeea."

"Seeeea!" said the simpleton.

Gull jumped so he almost fell off the wagon seat. "What did you say?"

"Saaaay!" said his sister.

Gull's mouth gaped, and Lily laughed at both of them. Flustered, the woodcutter snarled, "Stop it! This is serious! She's never repeated anything before!"

"Never? Really?" Now Lily was flustered. Greensleeves studied the two of them like a patient dog awaiting orders.

Orders came, but from the wagon two back. Knoton, the clerk shrilled, "What's keeping us? Get moving! Tow-ser's wait-ing!"

Slumping back on the seat, Gull flapped the reins, plucked at the brake to slow the wagon as it rolled downhill. A track ran along the cliff's edge: the first road they'd struck since leaving White Ridge.

Greensleeves bobbed with the jouncing wagon, staring. Sea breeze spun her hair into a brown halo. She cooed, "Seeeea!"

After passing fields freshly plowed and seeded, a fortress farmhouse, scrubby ridges, then more farms and more fields, they struck the town of a few hundred houses. Again, Gull was awed. "So many people in one place!"

Lily laughed. "And this just a small town. You should see a real city. It's walled, yet 'twould take you a full day to walk across it. Or two days." Gull found that impossible to imagine. Yet despite her teasing, he was glad to see her laugh so easily.

Towser ordered the wagons halted at the first ale bar, for they had run out of beer weeks ago. From his own pouch the wizard produced coin to buy a round. Dusty and weary and jangly-legged from the long haul, his entourage quaffed greedily. Towser had them all topped off, then raised his foaming jack for a toast.

"To you, my proud followers! I respect your hard work and diligence that got us here safely! Know you there will be ale aplenty, and fresh food, and days to wander at your will with fat purses!"

United for the first time, the party cheered and drank. When they'd fathomed the cask, Towser gave final orders. They were to set up camp outside town, secure firewood, post a guard, and then the rest could depart for sightseeing. Muzzily, they complied as the sun set.

Before he knew it, Gull had money in a purse, a black dagger on his belt, Greensleeves on one arm, Lily on the other, and Stiggur trailing behind like a puppy. Together, the four marched into town. Lily had promised them a good time, though Gull had no idea what that entailed. He was happy just to stare at the sights.

Over the next few days, they explored the town. Gull couldn't believe the diversity, the industry, the color. He loved everything. The streets were wide and fairly clean, though pigs and chickens and dogs ran hither and thither. The buildings were one or two stories, covered with salt-streaked shingles and clapboards, with painted doors and icons dotting the walls. The shops bore painted signs. The ale bars were crammed with sailors and pirates and farmers and artisans. The docks were heaped with goods unloaded from long graceful galleys and boxy cogs. Workshops lay open, so they watched horses being shod, ships being straked, fish being gutted, candles being dipped, cloth being dyed.

Lily bought them foods they'd never tasted. Fresh ocean fish and potatoes fried in olive oil. Lamb roasted with onions. Honeyed squash. Beaver tails baked in beer. She bought Greensleeves and Stiggur huge chunks of rock crystal that proved to be cane sugar dipped on string. She saw Gull try beers from all over, brewed from barley and hops, but also pumpkins, potatoes, mushrooms, even birch bark.

With a purse full of money and some place to spend it, Gull had a seamstress cobble up a new dress for his sister, pale green with darker sleeves, as his mother had sewn long ago, though with a quilted bodice, as the weather was cooler by the sea. He bought Lily a white shawl embroidered with bright flowers along the edges, and she squealed with delight. But for himself, he could think of nothing to buy save a plain gray sweater.

Every afternoon, all four stripped and waded in the ocean, diving and surfing and blubbering and splashing each other like children.

One day, Gull tried to befriend his namesakes, offering scraps, tidbits of bread, but the birds flew off every time, never letting him get within petting distance. When he asked why, Lily told him, "They're scavengers, Gull. They live by their wits and are wary. They eat what they can, sometimes fighting with dogs and cats and other birds. And they're not really welcome anywhere, though the sailors refuse to kill any seabird. It brings bad luck."

"Unwelcome touchy scavengers…" mused Gull. "I'm more like my namesakes than I knew."

The dancing girl laughed and hugged his arm. "You're welcome. And hardly touchy. And you're just surviving, as are we all. Look at them this way. Gulls are tough, reliable, smart, quick, and lucky. Does that suit you?"

"Does it suit you?" the woodcutter laughed, and he hugged her waist.

Gull laughed again when he gave Greensleeves the bread. The girl had only to hold out a tidbit and gulls mobbed her, flapping around her skirts, hovering to eat from her hand, even standing on her head.

"What are they called, Greenie?" hollered her brother.

"Birrrdddsss!" giggled his sister.

Throughout their sightseeing, they patiently taught Greensleeves new words, until she pointed and named things like a bright baby. Soon she strung them together: "Want candy!" "See fish!" "Me hungry!" Gull shook his head at the wonder of it, and wished his family were alive to see her mind grow.

But on their fourth night, when most of the town was abed, they got the biggest-and rudest-surprise.

With Stiggur back in camp on watch, Lily, Gull, and Greensleeves walked out together. As Lily always insisted, they passed down the middle of the street to avoid alleys and footpads.

Yet feet came pattering, rapid.

Gull whirled, dragging the women behind.

And grunted in shock.

Chad rushed him with a long club.

Before he could even shout, Gull heard a dull thud. Lily slumped against him, knocked cold by another assassin. Over his shoulder, Gull glimpsed the stolid silent Oles.

Along with outrage at the sneak attack, came questions.

What the hell was going on, that members of his own party attacked him? Who was behind it?

Then came the biggest surprise of all.

A girl's voice called, "Gull!" He whirled toward the speaker. "Greensleeves???"