The Lost Princess

Chapter Thirteen: Claimed by the Swamp

The next day the company fared no better. The marshes seemed to grow deeper and deeper, sometimes rising to the horses' bellies. Thorindir felt cold and clammy despite the heat— the price to be paid for being constantly damp. If they did not reach the end of this swamp soon, they would all fall ill.

He looked back at his followers. Every one of their heads hung, and their shoulders slumped from fatigue. He wanted to raise their spirits, but he had no words with which to do so. Traveling in darkness for days had sapped all his strength as well.

He knew something was following them. He wasn't sure if it was dangerous or not. Amara had noticed too. He could tell because she always traveled at the back of the group, her eyes wide and alert despite her sleep deprivation. He hoped one of them would spot whatever it was soon.

They had entered a deep pool, and the horses sloshed in the water. An alarmed whinny broke from behind him. Thorindir whirled around in his saddle to see Farn's horse up to its withers in the water. The animal's eyes were wild as it thrashed. A horrible sucking sound came with every movement of the petrified horse.

"Farn, get out of there!" Thorindir screamed. "Everyone else, hurry! Get away from the water! He's stuck in quicksand!"

The rest of the company did their best to move away. While Thorindir nudged his horse forward, he leaned out, reaching for his comrade. But Farn hardly looked up. He was trying to urge his horse forward, desperate to save the animal as well, but the horse's thrashing had caused it to sink incredibly fast. Soon Farn was up to his waist, the horse's nose barely able to break the surface.

"Farn! Grab my hand!" Thorindir demanded, raising his voice over the panicked noises of the drowning animal.

The elf soldier looked up, realizing there was no hope for his prized steed, and attempted to reach for his general's hand. But it was too late; his waist was stuck fast.

"I can't reach you!"

"No!" Thorindir felt his heart twist in agony. "Don't you dare give up on me!"

"I'm sorry, sir," Farn apologized, sorrow filling his eyes. The horse slipped below the surface, and the mud had crept up to Farn's chest. "Lead them out. Tell my family I love them."

"No!" Thorindir's voice echoed so loudly the trees seemed to shake.

No fear showed in Farn's eyes as his head slipped below the surface. Cries of sorrow and despair came from the other elves. Tears flowed across Earwen's and Eramire's faces as they looked on in horror.

Thorindir sat on his horse at the edge of the pit where one of his oldest friends had just vanished. He wanted to dive into the pit and retrieve him, but he had the others to think about. He turned away. Grief filled him; it settled and solidified in his chest, and he felt as if a boulder hung from his neck. He looked up at his horrified friends and opened his mouth to try to comfort them, but he caught site of Amara. Her eyes were wide, her face white as snow. She was gazing past him.

He turned to look, and his heart nearly broke from his chest with the terror that filled him. Just on the edge of the bog where they stood lurked a large skeletal creature. Its hair was green, and its beard grew past its midsection. The figure was gaunt, with its bones jutting painfully. Dark holes where its eyes should've been seemed to stare straight into his soul. The creature had a likeness to a man with skin made of bark. It stood just inside the shadows. It made no sound. It did not move, only stared for some time. After what seemed like an eternity, the creature melted away, as if it had lost interest in the strangers and their plight.

"What was that?" Amara's voice was shaky.

"I believe it was a leshnik," Eramire replied, her voice trembling as well.

They made camp later that day. No one said anything. Their hearts were heavy with the weight of Farn's loss. Nauro paced furiously despite his exhaustion. His eyes were haunted and lined with dark circles. He was mumbling and cursing, wringing his hands.

Earwen stood and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. Her own eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "There was nothing you could've done. Please lie down and rest."

The young elf looked at her mournfully but did not argue. He lay down on a blanket and was soon fast asleep.

"I'll take first watch," Amara stated. It was the first thing she had said since that afternoon. For once Thorindir did not argue. He walked a little way from their camp. No one reacted to the broken sobs coming from the elf man. After what seemed like a long time, he followed Nauro's example and curled on his side. Soon everyone but the Calathil princess was asleep, grief and weariness winning out.

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