Chapter 14 Acquaintances #3
“Ah, ha-ha, but wait! How can you leave not knowing where to go? Even if you leave, you’ll be followed. The order must be kept, isn’t that right?”
Kraghtol grimaced, but the old man was painfully right. He didn’t know where to go, and Hawke would hardly stop when he realized they had escaped the city.
“Alright. Do you know somewhere we can hide?”
Again, the madman chuckled before answering. “No. I can’t know. But I know of something you are missing. There lies a secret, at the heart. The heart of the Shifting Swamp, which is also a different heart. Forgotten and life-changing. You are ready to see it now, are you not?”
“The Shifting Swamp? You mean like the oracle?” Valir asked. His voice sounded skeptical, but suddenly alert. He explained when he picked up Kraghtol’s gaze.
“It’s a folktale from Greylune. There is supposed to be an all-knowing oracle in the middle of the swamp, handing out life-changing secrets like candy and knowing the answer to all questions.”
“Yes, yes. Folktale. Unreliable. Children’s play. But perhaps not without truth? You decide. I won’t follow. Mind the Mandrakes, though. They are friendly, are they not?”
“Let’s get out of the city first, and worry about the rest later,” said Kraghtol. “Thank you, … nameless old man.”
True to his word, his first patient didn’t follow them as they passed the sleeping orderkeepers out into the city of stone and metal.
Not wanting to stress their luck any more, they opted to leave immediately, using the Bronzerun River to avoid any guards at the gate.
Even though it was high spring now, the water felt icy, and when they finally emerged a few hundred meters downstream of the cavern entrance on the southern bank, both of them were shivering.
Still, neither of them wanted to stop, and only when the sun was already high above the ground did they allow themselves a moment of rest, hiding in a grove of birch trees near the road.
“So, now that you are a fugitive — again — what are you going to do? Surely not venture into the Shifting Swamp?” Valir asked while carefully wiping any residual dampness from his instrument.
Since it was made from metal, Kraghtol saw the chance it could actually have survived the bath in the river, although Valir would have to remove rust. Most of his own possessions weren’t susceptible to water damage, except for the bag of Activator.
Luckily, the bag was waterproof enough for the powder to stay dry.
“I’m not sure,” he answered when Valir looked at him expectantly. “What is it about that swamp? Is it dangerous?”
Given the name, it was a stupid question, and Valir rolled his eyes.
“Of course, how could I expect you to have maps in Mistpine? The Shifting Swamp is a vast marsh right in the center of Wardenreach. It begins a good few hundred kilometers south of Winterstone and stretches all the way south almost until Greylune. It’s treacherous and difficult to traverse, forcing travelers from Greylune to Winterstone to take huge detours either to the west or to the east, passing Crossroads.
And by ‘difficult to traverse’, I’m referring to the outskirts.
It gets worse the further you venture inwards, and nobody — oh, no.
You’re not seriously considering going there, are you? By the tusk, the oracle is a myth!”
Kraghtol’s eyes were gleaming, and his mind was racing so much he even ignored the detested expression.
“That may be so. Although I would have more than a few questions I’d like to ask an all-knowing oracle, if I’m being honest. But think about it.
Roderic Hawke will follow us, probably on horseback.
He will catch us in a matter of weeks, days if we stick to the roads.
Our only chance is to go where his horses won’t be of much use. ”
“That’s just suicide with mosquitoes on top. Yes, horses won’t help him much, but that doesn’t matter if you end up drowning yourself. And why ‘us’ in the first place? When did I agree to venture into the perilous mud with you?!”
That hurt badly, and Kraghtol didn’t understand why.
He had, of course, another reason he wanted to take the risk.
Everything clicked together, and he suspected — no, he knew what he was going to find in the middle of the swamp.
It had been this oracle that had spoken to him in his dreams. He had barely scratched the surface of alchemy, and he wanted to learn more.
But ‘I dreamed of this swamp’ didn’t make for a very good reason if he didn’t want to sound as crazy as the gnarly old man.
Still, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Valir wouldn’t want to come with him. And although he could hardly imagine any scenario in which the noble would be helpful instead of a further obligation in the wilderness, it filled him with an inexplicable sadness to hear those words.
“I… I thought you might want to…” his tongue started and now waited for his brain to fill in the blanks. It didn’t, so after a while, he just closed his mouth again.
A coldfire silence engulfed the grove, and Kraghtol could see Valir’s face working under his pale skin.
Finally, he sighed. It wasn’t his usual theatrical sigh, meant for everyone around to hear clearly.
It was a quiet and personal sigh, like that of a battle lost he wasn’t sure he even wanted to win.
“By the stars. You will be the end of me. Fine. I’ll come. But first, tell me the truth about why you need to go there.”
And Kraghtol did. He told Valir all about his dreams, the Principles, and what he was hoping to find in the swamp. To his relief, Valir didn’t laugh and only commented on the whole thing with a “You sure weren’t kidding when you said alchemy was your dream.”
True to his word, he didn’t bring up any doubts about his accompanying Kraghtol again, and even though the half-orc didn’t understand why, he didn’t dare to ask.
After a rest, they followed the road west to Winterstone for a bit.
It was risky, since this would be the way Roderic Hawke would come, but it was also the right direction, and Kraghtol hoped they would meet Dagna there.
It made sense to him she would go west to find out more about her uncle.
They avoided actually traveling on the road as best as they could, but they couldn’t avert being seen by farmers or villagers when they asked about the dwarf.
If Roderic were to ask for them on the way, he would have an easy time figuring out where they went, but Kraghtol hoped he would head straight for Bronzebreak before even considering they might not be there anymore.
They found Dagna only a few days later, in the morning.
She was alone on the foggy road and was carrying a backpack that was almost larger than herself, slowing her down considerably.
She was ecstatic to reunite with them and wanted to hear the story of their escape immediately they got off the road.
Her eyes were gleaming when they had finished.
“And now you’re going to the Shifting Swamp? To see a mysterious oracle that you’ve dreamed of? That’s just… magnificent! Can I come with you? Please!”
Kraghtol and Valir exchanged a look.
“I didn’t expect you to be so enthusiastic about it. Aren’t you following your uncle? And I guess we might be seen as criminals now.”
“Are you kidding? You can’t tease something like that and then shut me out of it.
Of course I want in! And I’ve got plenty of time, at least ten years.
My uncle has been gone for 40 years now; another few weeks won’t change anything.
” Her eyes grew a bit more serious as she continued.
“And just so you know, everyone seeing you as criminals can seriously suck it. Hard. You’re fine. ”
“Right. I, too, made it a habit to trust dubious people I just met a few days ago,” Valir added sarcastically. “Well, perhaps I have, in a way, and shouldn’t judge too harshly.”
“Well, if you insist…” Kraghtol said, but couldn’t entirely hide his smile.
“I insist very much! Oh, right, that reminds me. I’ve still got your lockbox.”
She rummaged through her backpack and handed Kraghtol the metal box.
It was unlocked when Kraghtol tried it. Dagna shrugged.
“It wasn’t that hard. I actually had it open after a day or two, but I forgot to tell you over your alchemical experiments.
Honestly, I don’t get why the thing should be important. ”
The inside of the box was padded with thick layers of velvet and contained one item: a slender needle made of glass, with a slight greenish-blue sheen to it.
When Kraghtol picked it up, it was light and incredibly pointy at one end.
The other end was formed into a small bulb, perhaps as thick as Kraghtol’s thumb, that was open on one end. The whole needle was hollow, and empty.
“It looks fragile,” Valir remarked, and Kraghtol had to agree. Unless it was meant to pierce only through the softest cotton, the needle would probably break on its first use.
“I have absolutely no idea what this is for. Perhaps Merress can make sense of it,” Kraghtol said while carefully putting the needle back and closing the box. “Oh, but I’ve got something for you, too. I found this monocle on the ground in Voldrik’s workshop. I think it belonged to him.”
Dagna took the gold-framed lens carefully, like a holy relic. She obviously really admired her uncle, whom she had never met, and Kraghtol wondered if it wasn’t a bit obsessive.
Her backpack contained about half of the contents of her workshop, and it was so heavy it was no wonder she was slowed down by it so much. When Kraghtol offered to carry it for her, she immediately agreed.