The Finding (34 page)

She looked over at Gieaun and Scede and she could almost feel their eyes begging her not to accept. They’d be angry with her for her decision, but they didn’t understand. She had to do this, she had to defeat Eydeth and Ellysian this time. As unfair as their dare might’ve been, she had to prove to herself she could be just as brave as she claimed.

“Well, Nesnan?”

The sudden question snapped her out of her train of thought. Eydeth gazed in her direction with a cold emptiness in his eyes.
I can’t let him win
, she thought miserably.
I’ve got to see this through.

“Do you think you’re brave enough to go into the swamp?” he asked coolly. “Or are you just like all the other Nesnans around here, content with slaving away all day and giving into their superstitions? Do you think you’re braver than a dragon?”

Jahrra shot Eydeth a fiery look, despising the way that he belittled everyone who was even remotely different or less fortunate than himself. She looked again at Gieaun and Scede, and Rhudedth and Pahrdh.  She could see that even though their gazes begged her not to accept, there was a glint of knowledge in their eyes; they knew exactly what she was going to do.

Jahrra returned her stormy eyes to Eydeth and tried as hard as she could to look through him as he did her, and answered, “Name the time and the place.”

The Resai twins bared their vile grins.

“Tomorrow morning,” Eydeth said sadistically, “an hour after sunup, at the forest’s edge on the bank of the Danu Creek. Don’t be late.”

***

Jahrra found it hard to sleep that night for a number of reasons. First, she was still bristling about how easily she’d fallen into the twins’ trap. Secondly, she was nervous and terrified about what she was about to do the next morning, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself the witch didn’t exist. And finally, she was feeling overwhelmingly guilty about the lie she had told Hroombra.

The old dragon had warned her so many times not to go into the Wreing Florenn, and not only had she disobeyed him once, but she was about to do it again. Worse yet, she was going to wander into the deepest part of the forest. It was a long time before she finally drifted into a restless sleep full of strange and dark dreams.

Jahrra rose early despite her grogginess, dressing in her usual leather pants and loose tunic, adding a vest to help fight off the chill of the morning. She paused only long enough to pull her long hair into a messy braid before grabbing her thick riding cloak on the way out of her room. She hastily packed a lunch, sneaking around the Ruin so as not to disturb the great sleeping reptilian mountain that was Hroombra.

She saddled Phrym just as quickly, looking mournfully towards the Danu Creek flowing peacefully out of the Wreing Florenn. The creek was fed by a natural spring, deep within the heart of the forest. This spring also filled up the basin between the two rows of hillocks in the center of the great wood. This soggy basin was the infamous Black Swamp.

Jahrra shivered and wondered if Eydeth and Ellysian were already waiting for her on the edge of the forest.
Them and the entire school
, she thought, a feeling of dread slowly filling her hollow stomach. She’d been too nervous to eat breakfast. Jahrra and Phrym walked gravely across the field, still gray in the early morning light. They met up with the creek and headed east towards the forest.

As they trudged along, Jahrra thought about her friends’ offer to go along with her. Despite the fact that Gieaun was terrified out of her wits and still angry that Jahrra had actually accepted the challenge, she wouldn’t let her friend go on such a dangerous endeavor alone.

Jahrra cringed when she recalled her friend’s wrath from the day before.

“Have you gone quite mad?” the Resai girl had wheezed. “Jahrra, what’s the matter with you? You can’t go into that swamp! Don’t you know what’s in there? It’s not just any witch but an evil witch of Ciarrohn that lives in the hollow of the hills, you remember the story. Jahrra! You’ll most definitely be killed, and then Eydeth and Ellysian will have won for sure!”

Jahrra pushed Gieaun’s voice and Scede’s dark eyes to the back of her mind. In the end they had agreed to go with her, refusing to let their best friend go into dangerous territory alone. Jahrra had almost cried; she wanted to be brave, but she couldn’t imagine doing this without them.

Phrym’s rumbling whicker pulled Jahrra from her reverie. Up ahead, the towering trees of the Wreing Florenn were beginning to swallow the Danu Creek. Jahrra felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t realized how far they had traveled. They came around one more bend of the shadowed stream and saw the entire school standing on the edge of the forest like a funeral procession. Jahrra thought she was going to faint. She spotted Gieaun and Scede off to the side on their own horses and she timidly led Phrym over to them.

“Am I late?” she whispered harshly, her mouth strangely dry. “I thought I left early enough.”

“No, you’re early, but they all got here even earlier,” Scede said tensely, looking how Jahrra felt.

Jahrra gritted her teeth and fought the sudden waves of nausea. “I guess we’d better get this over with then.”

She took a deep breath and led Phrym over to where Eydeth and Ellysian stood. Gieaun and Scede looked on in horror, their nerves slowly melting into pools of fear.

Jahrra addressed the twins, “Alright, what are the conditions, how far do I have to go in?”

She was no longer whispering, and she could hear her own voice trembling.

Eydeth reveled in her dread awhile before answering with a twisted smile, “You’ll have to go all the way to the Belloughs, at the very end of the swamp, where the witch lives. Bring back some evidence that you’ve made it that far or else we won’t believe you.”

There was an audible gasp at the mention of the word
Belloughs
, but Jahrra forced herself to ignore it. The Belloughs was the worst part of the swamp. Going all the way to the Belloughs would be like diving into the middle of Lake Ossar where the lake monster supposedly slept as opposed to simply wading on the shore. Jahrra pushed the daunting comparison out of her mind and instead focused her attention on Eydeth’s continued ridiculous suggestions.

“How could I possibly prove that!” she snipped, forgetting her fear for the time being.

“Oh, I don’t know, bring back something that belongs to the witch.”

Ellysian and a few of their friends snickered and Jahrra flushed with sudden anger.
That boy is so evil! He knows I can’t bring back any proof!

“Very well,” she finally answered, straight-faced and unsmiling, “but if I do, I want something in return.”

If she had to prove she made it to the Belloughs, then she wasn’t going to do it for free. Something that looked like surprise flashed across Eydeth’s face, and Jahrra felt her spirits lift just a little. He hadn’t expected her to counter with her own demands.

“If I come back with evidence,” Jahrra continued coolly, “then I want you, your sister, and all of your friends to stay away from Lake Ossar.
Forever.
”

Jahrra sat up rigidly in the saddle and held her head up as high as she could. A mixture of annoyance, anger and defeat churned behind Eydeth’s cruel eyes. He was obviously fighting the desire to deny Jahrra what she wanted, but he was also deciding whether he should sacrifice one small advantage for her in order to ensure she would still go through with his dare.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he spoke, “That mud hole? No problem! If you come back with believable evidence of the hag, then you and your Nesnan-loving friends can have that puddle all to yourselves.”

Eydeth crossed his arms and smirked, trying to hide the fact that he was annoyed his enemy might be getting something out of this. Jahrra smiled widely and glanced over at Gieaun and Scede, both looking somewhat cheerful for the first time that morning.

“You’ve got a deal.” Jahrra nodded to the twins and trailed her eyes over the rest of the crowd, reassuring herself that they had heard the bargain. She pulled Phrym’s reins around and guided him towards the tiny path that eventually led into the heart of the Black Swamp. Gieaun and Scede followed suit on Bhun and Aimhe, Scede looking three shades of grey and Gieaun looking like a wilted flower.

“Hold on, what’s this?” Eydeth said suddenly in feigned amusement. “An entourage?”

Jahrra turned around on Phrym, bracing herself for what she knew she was going to hear.

“You go alone, Nesnan. No buddies to help you out, or our deal about the pond is off.”

Eydeth and his sister crossed their arms firmly, glaring even more contemptibly than before.

A dramatic muttering swept the crowd as Jahrra looked nervously around, not quite sure what to do.
I should’ve known he wouldn’t want them coming with me!
she thought miserably. She looked at Scede, dread building in her eyes, but he just stared back, a look of helplessness on his own face. Gieaun appeared to be paler than a ghost and seemed to be beyond speech.

“Jahrra!” she finally managed to whisper hoarsely. “You can still tell them no!”

Jahrra turned away and took a deep breath. She knew that if she wanted to win this battle, to win back her favorite place in the whole world, she would have to do this alone.

She released the air in her lungs and with eyes still closed she said, “I’ll go alone.”

The crowd gasped, obviously shocked at her decision. Eydeth and Ellysian had expected her to back out, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. She opened her eyes and looked at her friends one last time. Scede looked frightened, but encouraging at the same time and his sister was cowering next to him, on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. But don’t you dare go and get Hroombra until the afternoon if I don’t come back, alright?”

Gieaun and Scede reluctantly swore they’d give their friend plenty of time to complete her task. Jahrra hugged them both from Phrym’s back and then turned and led him in the direction of the swamp once more.

“If any of you are expecting me to die today, you’re wasting your time. I’ll go to the Belloughs, but I don’t plan on staying,” she boldly shot behind her, guiding Phrym into a canter just before disappearing over the small rise in land that eventually dropped into the swamp.

After she crested the low hill, Jahrra let out a long sigh and slouched in the saddle. Her bones felt like rubber and her skin like jelly.
No point in looking brave now, no one is around to see
, she thought as her mouth became parched again.

Phrym walked tediously along the narrow trail stretching in front of them, his hooves making a sucking sound in the black, sticky mud. A sense of dread filled the air and the surrounding woods were oddly silent, the only noise, other than Phrym’s feet of course, were his puffs of discomfiture. The air smelled woody, metallic and stale and it reminded Jahrra of the scent of blood. She shivered and tried hard not to imagine stumbling upon a massacre wrought by some horrific beast.

Despite her fear, however, Jahrra encouraged Phrym deeper into the darkening wood. Soon the tall, bright eucalyptus trees were replaced by black, crouching oaks and the first signs of the dark bog crept into view. The scent of putrid water filled the air, and Jahrra’s restless mind unwillingly dredged up everything she had ever heard about the Black Swamp. At that moment her memory was recalling an excerpt from one of Hroombra’s books:

The Black Swamp, as it is so called by the many elfin tribes that inhabit Oescienne, is a stretch of wetlands nestled between the two small rows of hillocks within the Wreing Florenn.

The swamp gets its name from the blackish mud that makes up its belly, not to mention the dreary and dank atmosphere it exudes from the knotty, sick looking ancient black oaks that guard its boundaries.

Not many a soul ventures into the Black Swamp and only a few brave its borders to collect the coveted mushrooms and rare herbs that grow within its dark interior. It is also said that the best mistletoe grows in the canopies of the black oaks there, but even fewer people venture in deep enough to collect it.

The dreary environment and unpleasant surroundings are not the only reason people avoid the swamp. According to local legend, many fearsome and mysterious creatures are said to live there, and in the past many children have gone missing.

Something splashed into the dank water only a few feet from the trail, stirring the cool, heavy mist that engulfed the landscape. Jahrra yelped and instinctively pulled on Phrym’s reins, the disturbing thoughts resonating in her head quickly drowned out by the sound of her pounding heart. Phrym quickened his pace and made a few discontented noises of nervousness, but as Jahrra shakily coaxed him back to a slower pace, she noticed that the sound had been caused by a turtle taking cover under the water.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, laughing nervously as she released it. She reached down and patted Phrym.

“It’s alright boy. It was only a turtle.”

Phrym nickered and snorted, seeming satisfied with Jahrra’s explanation. She encouraged him onward, and soon they were moving at a steady pace once again.

As they journeyed deeper into the swamp, Jahrra tried hard to be positive and not think about what might be watching her from the thick brush beyond the trail. She especially tried not to think about the legendary witch that may or may not live in the Belloughs, but the chilly woods conjured up memories of campfire ghost stories that kept the fear fresh.