28. Bog
Bog
As the City of Gorias disappeared into the background with the sun still high in the sky, Noctis flickered back beside Sorcha, prancing along beside them as they traveled through the rocky terrain.
The land took shape once again into a dense forest nestled between the mountain crevices.
The canopy above cast shifting shadows, filtering beams of gold through the leaves.
The birds had ceased; the wind died. Maelan froze, his blood turning to ice as a deep howl reverberated through the air.
One.
Through the shifting shadows, a shape coalesced against the ridge. It was massive, the size of a young bull, its coat the color of deep, rotting moss, blending so perfectly with the lichen that it seemed carved from the stone itself.
A second howl rolled over them. Maelan’s hand clamped onto Kyron’s arm, his grip bruising. He didn’t speak; he just shook his head, eyes wide, counting the seconds.
Two.
They had to move before the third.
“What is it?” Kyron whispered.
Maelan’s voice was low as he spoke, “It’s a Cu Sidhe. Tell Sorcha, but don’t draw attention.”
Kyron inhaled deeply and drifted toward Sorcha, masking the urgency in his steps. When he reached her, she glanced up, sensing something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“Wolves. Up on the ridge. We have to be careful, but don’t let them know we’ve seen them.”
Her fingers tightened slightly on her weapon. “So what’s the plan?”
“We keep walking.”
Maelan caught up, his eyes still tracking the Cu Sidhe.
The deeper they ventured, the thicker the forest became.
The path wound back on itself, walking straight led them backwards, left led them right.
Sorcha frowned, marking a gnarled oak they had passed ten minutes ago, yet here it was again, its branches seeming to reach lower than before.
“We’re walking in circles,” Kyron muttered, kicking at the mud.
From the corner of his eye, Maelan saw a shadow detach itself from a reed cluster it was small, round, and mud caked, before vanishing into a pool of sludge with a soft glug. They pushed through the dense forest further until they reached a fork in the path.
“There was no mention of a split in the road,” Sorcha murmured.
Kyron exhaled. “It’s a trap.”
“We should split up, we’ll cover more ground that way.” Sorcha suggested eyeing the right path.
“There’s only two ways to go, one of us will be alone.” Kyron argued.
“Don’t worry, you and Maelan can go together.”
Maelan huffed out a laugh “Absolutely not, you’re a queen, my queen. You’ll be fine on your own, won’t you Kyron.”
“No, not happening. We stick together,” Kyron retorted.
They argued on as Sorcha picked a stick and began twirling it around. Suddenly she knelt, gathering three sticks from the ground. She broke them into different lengths, mixed them in her hands, and held them out.
“We’ll let fate decide.” She declared.
One by one, they each drew.
Kyron scowled. He had drawn the shortest stick.
“As odds would have it,” Maelan said with a smirk, “we go left.”
The winding path turned so many times that it became impossible to tell which way led forward.
The air grew thick with the damp scent of moss and decay.
The trees pressed in, their gnarled branches tangling overhead, choking out the light.
The croaking of frogs blended with the wet squelch of mud beneath their boots.
Every so often, a faint splash rippled through the darkness, moving in the water beyond their sight.
Maelan and Kyron exchanged wary glances.
“It’s a bog,” Maelan murmured.
Kyron took a slow step forward. “Whatever you do, don’t enter the water. The worst thing that could happen is” He hesitated, his brows knitting together as he squinted to see further, “we run into a bog hag.”
Silence stretched between them. As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, shadows shifted in the darkness ahead. The bog croaked louder. Wind whispered through the reeds.
“What is a Bog Hag?” Sorcha whispered.
“A Fey of sorts,” Maelan answered. “Horrible witches with wicked intent. They use foul magic to twist the land and trick those who wander into their homes.”
A cold sweat ran down Sorcha’s spine. “What do we do? We can’t go back. we barely found our way here. Maybe we can cut through the trees?”
She scanned the thick brush, its tangled vines and twisting roots forming an almost impenetrable wall. “I could just light it on fire,” she suggested.
Kyron dragged a hand down his face. “Sorcha, if we set fire to the forest, everything that lives here will hunt us for the rest of eternity.”
Maelan sighed, rubbing his temples. “I hate to admit it, but Kyron’s right.”
Sorcha’s irritation flared. “I don’t see either of you coming up with any bright ideas! If you’ve got a better plan, speak up.”
They paced, tension thick in the air.
“We try to go back. It’s our only option unless we want to face whatever’s ahead.”
Kyron nodded. “Okay, let’s try it. Sorcha?”
But Sorcha wasn’t listening. She had stepped farther into the bog, her focus locked on a shadow in the distance.
Kyron stepped in front of her, blocking her line of sight. “Sorcha.”
She glanced around, her stomach twisting. “Where the hells is Noctis?” She began yelling for Noctis.
Maelan’s panic spiked. “Sorcha, stop yelling, damn it! Let’s just throw a parade and announce our arrival.”
Kyron looked ready to strangle her. “Sorcha, please. You’re going to get us killed.”
She turned on them, her voice steely. “And without her, we definitely will be.”
Without another word, she spun on her heel and retraced their path.
Kyron and Maelan hurried after her. “Noctis disappears all the time it’s what she does,” Maelan tried.
Kyron nodded. “Sorcha, like Maelan said, we don’t know she’s in trouble. Noctis comes and goes as she pleases.”
Sorcha didn’t stop. She didn’t even turn around. “No. I’m telling you something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
Maelan and Kyron exchanged exasperated glances.
“What’s the issue?” she snapped, spinning so fast that they nearly collided with her.
Kyron hesitated. “Sorcha, it’s obvious Noctis doesn’t like certain places… or maybe she can’t enter them.”
Maelan cleared his throat. “Yeah, there’s still a lot we don’t know about that hellhound.”
Sorcha let out an irritated sigh, shaking her head. “I’m telling you I feel it. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel anxious, scared… even mad. But they aren’t my feelings.” Her voice dropped,“She’s somewhere around here.”
That shut them both up. They retraced their steps over and over, only to find themselves right back at the bog.
Sorcha let out an annoyed sigh, throwing her hands up. “Alright, it’s the bog then.”
She checked the bag she carried, shifting her cloak aside. Beneath the food, she found a coil of thread.
“Let’s tie this to each other, this way, we won’t lose one another,” she said, pulling it out.
Kyron shook his head. “Oh, okay. So if one of us gets dragged under the water, attacked, or, eaten, we all go down together? Very queen like of you. One for all and all for one.”
Maelan looked ready to murder them both.
Just Then, movement inside the bog caught Kyrons eye.
His expression shifted instantly. Without a word, he stepped forward, clamping a hand over Sorcha’s mouth.
Sorcha jerked in protest, but Kyron ignored her, tilting her head toward the disturbance.
Sorcha followed his gaze, eyes narrowing. Then, the bog croaked.
A massive toad, its grotesque form barely visible in the shifting shadows, unhinged its gaping maw.
In an instant, its thick, muscular tongue lashed out, ensnaring a small creature, a fox, dragging it into the cavernous pit of its mouth.
The toad’s jaws slammed shut, swallowing its prey whole.
It leapt into the air with surprising speed, its bloated body momentarily suspended before it crashed back down into the bog with a sickening squelch, sending ripples of filth outward.
It watched them. Its warty, mottled skin sagged over its grotesque frame, slick with a foul, mucus like secretion that oozed from its pores and dripped into the stagnant water below.
The air reeked of a carcass left to bake in the sun, thick with a rot and decay that made the humid bog even more suffocating.
Sorcha’s eyes narrowed as she watched the toad.
Warts wept fluid across its bloated, pulsing back.
Sickly, crust-rimmed yellow slits for eyes caught the dim light and held it.
It opened its mouth, letting loose a deafening, hollow croak that rattled the swamp grass.
Strands of flesh from the fox still clung to rows of needle thin teeth.
Maelan didn’t even have time to draw his weapon before the creature’s tongue struck like a whip.
It bound his leg, dragging him screaming through the sludge.
His fingers lost their grip on his rapier as he was tossed like a rag doll, splashing down right into the spray of the toad’s foul breath.
Sorcha and Kyron came racing after him, their boots squelching through the muck. Scrambling to his feet, both beside him in an instant, swords drawn. Sorcha snapped her wrist, unleashing a whip of sunlight across the toad’s face.
The toad inhaled a deep, rattling breath, its throat inflating like bellows before releasing a sudden, vacuum like pull.
The force yanked them forward. Teeth tore at their arms and legs as they slid down its tongue.
The slick, muscular surface coiling around them.
Its throat clenched, forcing them deeper, swallowing them whole.
They fell for what felt like an eternity, until they crashed into a choking, gelatinous ooze. The slime clung to them, a living thing, tendrils wrapping around their limbs, tightening, pulling them deeper.
Each time one of them broke free, another limb was snared, dragging them back down.