As he recounted the tale, tears glimmered in his eyes, and listening nearby, Sulfie shivered.
“Dragon spawn?” Dram guessed, shaking his head, looking at Jaymes.
“Likely,” the warrior agreed. He looked at Carbo. “Were they all black?”
“Yep,” the gnome recalled with a shudder. “They were the blackest, scariest things I ever saw! They hissed and roared, and that spit-it burned the fur and the skin right off the poor old oxen.”
“But your brother-you didn’t see him get killed?”
“No. One big draco-you called it a dragon spawn? — grabbed him up by the neck and ran off. He cried out just one time. The others came after us, and we had to flee. As soon as we got out of the trees they stopped chasing us, but Pete wasn’t making any more noise, so we concluded that he was killed.”
Sulfie spoke up, finally. “If they have Pete, then we have to go get him out of there. I’m not afraid of any big lizard!”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Carbo agreed. He went over to his sister, looked at her seriously. “Don’t be getting all hopeful. Remember what we saw.”
“Yes,” the female agreed, but she raised her chin in determination. “Remember the White Lady, too. She wouldn’t lie!” she declared, glancing at Jaymes and Dram, emphasizing that her assessment did not necessarily extend to present company.
“You guys coming too?” she asked.
“Yes,” Jaymes replied with a small nod.
Dram huffed and scowled. “Well, if Pete knows how to finish the damned compound so it can do something besides fizzle and smoke, then I’d like to hear about it. But I do hate mosquitoes.”
The human grinned. “Once the dracos start swarming, I guarantee you won’t even noticed the bugs,” he remarked.
Sulfie’s eyes were wide, but she wrapped her little arms around herself and started down the grassy bluff. The others followed and approached the moss-draped trees that marked the edge of the Brackens. The sunlight seemed to dim, and a thick, grayish haze lingered in the air, masking the brightness-though not the warmth-of the sun. If anything it was even hotter at the base of the hill, and the air was thick and steamy.
The mosquitoes were thick here too, a steady whining drone in their ears. The companions also heard birds cawing angrily to each other and a chorus of croaking frogs. A myriad of smells greeted them, none of them pleasant. The sooty, metallic stench seemed almost asphyxiating. The swamp was a green-black wall of dark, mossy trunks, vines and creepers, with thick ferns sprouting from the ground.
No obvious path presented itself, but Sulfie led the way, pushing away some vines and stepping between two ancient tree trunks. The others followed. In single file they plunged into the trees, trying to move soundlessly, surprised as the noisy frogs abruptly fell silent. The ground was wet everywhere with pools of stagnant water, and sometimes they had to hop from one gnarled tree root to the next. A large snake slithered across their path. Something bigger splashed in the water nearby, and they hurried on.
Deeper and deeper into the swamp they progressed, pushing vines out of the way, ducking under creepers, edging past hooked thorns. By the time they had advanced two dozen paces, sunlight was but a distant memory. Now they couldn’t see more than a few feet in any direction. The mosquitoes swarmed over them.
They came across another snake-this one a black, venomous viper that coiled menacingly and raised its wedge-shape head, hissing. Jaymes pulled Giantsmiter from the scabbard on his back and brought the huge blade down with a single chop, cutting the snake into two wriggling segments. They pressed on in the sucking mud. The warrior held his weapon upraised.
Sulfie slipped off the gnarled root of an ancient cypress, sliding into what looked like shallow pool. With a little gasp of dismay she sank to her waist and began to settle deeper. She clawed at the root, then grasped Dram’s strong hand. Grimacing, the dwarf set his feet and pulled the gnome free. She was covered in mud and nearly gagged at the leeches wriggling on her leggings-but swatted them off. Grimly she rose to her feet, nodding when the dwarf said he would take the lead.
The smells grew stronger, swamp gas rising in choking clouds as their feet disturbed long-dormant layers of rot. A stink like carrion made Jaymes gag, and he held a handkerchief across his mouth, blinking away tears as he strained to see through the murk. Still that metal-smoke scent permeated everything, growing stronger as they penetrated deeper into the Brackens.
“Hsst!” said Carbo, drawing a big sniff through his wide nostrils. “Do you smell that smell?”
Jaymes nodded, his nostrils twitching. “Yes. Smoke, but not from wood.” Indeed, the vapor smelled bitter, acrid, more like something raised from a foundry than a campfire.
“That’s Pete!” cried Sulfie. “I’d know that stink anywhere! He’s busy cooking his stuff!”
“Stuff?” Dram asked.
“Yep. We each had one kind of stuff, Pap taught us about. Like my specialty is the yellow rock.” She gestured at the dirty sack on her back, which was filled with the samples of sulfir.
Carbo nodded. “Mine is charcoal. Pete’s stuff is the strangest of all, and he was very secretive about it-we don’t really know that much about it. He was always doing funny things with fire. But I know that smell! It means he’s still alive-it has to! This way!”
The gnome made to crash through the underbrush, but Dram placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Easy does it,” the dwarf whispered. “The dracos are probably still alive, too.”
With visible reluctance, Carbo nodded and moved on more cautiously, soon stepping out from the trees onto a narrow, muddy path of sorts. The others emerged after him, and without hesitation Carbo started toward the direction that seemed to lead deeper into the swamp and from which the strong smell emanated.
The new trail was narrow and muddy, twisting around the larger trees, but even Jaymes had enough headroom, as the vines and low branches had disappeared.
“You thinking what I am?” asked Dram, with a glance at his human companion.
“Yes,” Jaymes said. Who-or whatever-used this path was tall enough to clear it to a height of better than six feet above the ground.
The acrid scent grew steadily thicker. After a few minutes, the path opened into a shadowy, narrow clearing. Trees draped with moss and vines enclosed the space, with a tiny patch of sky overhead. That glimpse of blue only seemed to emphasize the gloom of this fetid place.
“There!” cried Carbo, pointing toward a gaping pit in the center of the small open space. The hole in the ground was dark, lined with mud, and venting an assortment of noxious gases. Greenish vapors were visible in narrow tendrils rising from the pit and wafting through the dense air. “He’s going to be down there!”
The gnome darted toward the pit. He didn’t hear the leathery wings flapping loudly overhead, but his companions were more alert.
“Duck!” cried Sulfie, leaping forward to tackle her brother. They tumbled to the muddy ground as a shadow flashed by. A black serpent swooped past, diving from overhead, barely missing the two gnomes. The creature’s large wings flared as it alit. It was not armed with any weapon, but its claws and fangs gleamed as it crouched and eyed the two gnomes. It looked like a small dragon. Crocodilian jaws gaped to reveal a forked, thrusting tongue, and its leathery wings buzzed.
Carbo sprang to his feet. He pulled his little dagger and was about to charge the strange serpent when, once again, his sister bowled into him, knocking him to the side just before a stream of yellow liquid spurted from the monster’s maw. The two gnomes rolled away, barely avoiding the lethal strike. The reptilian creature lashed its head on its long neck, following the course of the rolling gnomes, and started forward. It was indeed dragon-like, though more like the size of a large-and winged! — alligator than a truly monstrous wyrm.