XXXV - The Swamp

  The wolfsbane was more beautiful than most anything she had ever seen before; the painting in her companion’s bestiary could never have done it justice. Its crimson-and-violet petals glistened like gemstones with what meager sunlight managed to pierce through the gloom of the canopy, its bright iridescence effortlessly turning it into the most brilliant article in the entire forest. The flower glittered more gorgeously than any of her silver-kissed weapons could ever hope to. Sybil felt slightly guilty to pluck it from its place in the earth; she felt as if she was permanently robbing that mostly dire and ugly swamp of its most appealing possession, and that by doing so, she was leaving it a worse place than when she had entered it.

  Finn beamed at the flower in his companion’s hand; whether his reaction came from the thing’s sheer brilliance, or merely due to the fact that they had found it after such a long search, Sybil did not know. “I told you we’d find it,” he said. “You just needed to have some faith.”

  Sybil stared at the flower. She could not help but frown, despite the glistening beauty of the object in her hand. “Does your book speak of how this little thing is used to combat werewolves?”

  Finn pulled the satchel from his back and produced the bestiary. He turned to the page detailing wolfsbane and, attempting to read it, clearly struggled to discern the writing through the gloom.

  “I can’t read it very well in this place,” he admitted, confirming what Sybil already knew, “but I recall it saying that the plant’s mere presence is enough to deter a lycanthrope. Maybe it secretes some kind of pollen that aggravates the beast?”

  “I hope that ‘aggravates’ does not mean ‘angers’ in this case.”

  “I suppose we won’t know until we’ve put it to use.” Finn extended a hand. “Here, give it to me. I can keep it in my satchel.” Sybil glanced at the flower in her hand. She hesitated—something that Finn noticed almost immediately. “Do you not trust me to hold onto it?”

  “I do,” she said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I just… I worry about it getting damaged, is all.”

  “All the more reason to keep it stored safely in my satchel.”

  Sybil hesitated for another moment, then reluctantly handed her companion the flower. He carefully tucked it into its page in the bestiary, then returned the volume to his waiting bag.

  “Alright,” Sybil said when the satchel was back over Finn’s shoulder. “We’ve got the wolfsbane. Now how do we get out of this swamp?”

  She took in their surroundings. As she glanced around, she realized that she had no idea which way they had come from; this realization ignited a slight panic in her chest, one that was only exacerbated by the fact that her world looked to have grown ever-so-slightly darker.

  Finn also considered the space around them. When he saw the anxiety that was clearly plastered across her face, he pointed in a direction that, as far as Sybil was concerned, may as well have been chosen at random. “This way should lead us back to the village.”

  Sybil looked askance at him. “Should?”

  “Will,” he corrected. She frowned at him and he went on, a new fervor, and maybe even a mild annoyance, freshly in his voice. “Come, you’ll see. I was correct about the wolfsbane, was I not? I’ll be correct about this as well.”

  He took off into the swamp without giving her a chance to object. Sybil’s anxiety was far from quelled, but having no other choice, she followed after her companion into the swallowing darkness.

  ___

  She did not recall the moment when she truly realized that they were lost. It was likely before she had finally admitted it to herself, and certainly long before she felt comfortable enough to say as much out loud to her companion.

  When she finally did, Finn made a quick attempt to mitigate her concerns. Whether this was for her sake or for his own, Sybil did not know. “We may have gotten slightly turned around,” he said, “but we needn’t worry. The way back to Fenwick must be nearby.”

  Sybil was once again unconvinced. And the longer the day dragged on, the more her doubt grew, becoming stronger with each inch that the aging sun drifted toward the horizon. Darkness was rapidly enveloping the swamp, so that not even the sparse patches in the canopy saw much in the way of daylight. She could not readily see the world beyond the wetland, but she knew that their time was quickly running out. Nightfall would soon come, and with it the threat of the lycanthrope would rise. She could only pray to the Mother that the wretched creature was not lurking amongst those trees and vines and thick pools of mud and muck, waiting for its chance to transform so that it could finally strike.

  “Even so,” she said as they continued to walk through the twisting sameness of the swamp, “I do not think it wise that we continue to wander in this place with nightfall quickly approaching. The last thing we want to do is stumble into one of those quagmires that you spoke of. Maybe we should look for a place to rest for the night. We can start fresh in the morning.”

  “If we don’t return home soon, Avice and Mr. Albescu will come out searching for us,” he said. “That will only put them in harm’s way. We cannot stop. We must return to Fenwick.”

  Sybil came to a sudden stop. She stared at her companion, who was forced to do the same. “And I am telling you that we can’t return tonight, Finn. It’s already too late for that. We have no choice but to find somewhere to rest, where we can wait out the night and hope that our mentors don’t become too hysterical with worry over our absence.”

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  “Mother damn it!” Finn yelled suddenly, his face red and contorting. “This was my chance, Sybil. My opportunity to prove to them that I could do something besides run a blacksmith shop for the rest of my days. And I’ve gone and ruined it all by getting us lost in this damnable swamp!” He shook his head as he fought back tears. “They’ll never let me leave now.”

  Sybil frowned. She had never seen him so angry before. “It’s alright, Finn. You needn’t worry about that right now. What matters is not casting blame or concerning ourselves with consequences. What matters is ensuring our safety. Madam Avice would much rather have you returned home safely than have you carried back in a casket.”

  Finn sighed as he fought to regain control of himself. “You’re right. As always, you’re right. I’m sorry, Sybil. You need me to be strong right now, and I’m presently being anything but.”

  “Think nothing of it,” she said. “This day has been difficult on both of us. I’m just glad to have you here with me now.”

  Finn smiled at her. “Thank you. I’m glad to have you, too.”

  They continued on for a few more minutes before Finn stopped them once again, this time to remove his winter gloves and wool hat, which he stuffed into his satchel. When the articles were properly put away, he ran his right hand through his hair, which had grown slick and heavy with sweat. “By the Mother is it humid in this damn swamp. It doesn’t even feel like winter here.”

  Sybil was going to point out that she, indeed, still felt quite cold, but she forgot her words as soon as she noticed the state of the hand with which he’d swept his hair. The back of it was swollen and red, and was covered in small hives that looked like they wanted to burst from his flesh and spew yellow pus, which would quickly freeze upon hitting the frigid ground. “Finn, are you alright?” she asked, alarmed. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  Finn looked at his new affliction, seemingly noticing it for the first time. Upon examining it, he frowned. “I don’t know. This has never happened to me before.”

  “Is that not the hand you used to take the wolfsbane?”

  He considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I believe it is. Well, I must be having an allergic reaction to the thing.” He chuckled weakly. “I wish I’d have known about that before putting it in my satchel. The bag is probably full of the wolfbane’s secretions by now.”

  “That looks terrible. We need to do something to treat it.”

  “It looks worse than it feels,” he said. “Goddess willing, the swelling will subside soon enough so long as I don’t touch the wolfsbane again.”

  She frowned. “Goddess willing, indeed. Now I almost hope that our mentors do come and find us so they can treat your hand. It is going to be a long, uncomfortable night for you unless that swelling subsides.”

  “Truly, I do not even feel it. Whatever is happening to my hand must not be as terrible of an ordeal as it appears to be. But I suppose only time will tell.”

  “Shall I carry your satchel?”

  He shook his head. “No, but thank you. I should be alright.”

  Sybil realized that her companion seemed intent on keeping the wolfsbane for himself. He was clearly desperate to impress their mentors with his contribution to the fight against the lycanthrope. That was all well and good, but she only wished he would not go so far as to hold onto something that was actively causing him harm. Perhaps the wolfsbane was not as innocent as it looked; if it could cause such irritation to Finn, Sybil could only imagine what it would potentially do to a werewolf.

  They continued their seemingly aimless trek through the swamp. Finn no longer led the way; they walked side-by-side, as close together as they could, so that the strengthening shadows could not hope to find any space between them. With each step, the world around them appeared to grow darker. Day and night kept up their regular clash on the battlefield of twilight, but like each encounter before it, soon enough the night would claim its inevitable victory. Sybil only hoped that she and Finn would find something that resembled shelter before that time came.

  Finn stifled a groan next to her. Sybil looked at her companion and frowned. “Are you alright?”

  He returned her gaze and nodded, but she could tell that he was not well. His skin had grown more pale; his hair and face were both slick with sweat. “My head is beginning its usual ache,” he said. “I’m growing awfully tired out here.”

  “Well, we’ll stop just as soon as we find somewhere safe to do so,” Sybil said. She paused. “How is your hand?”

  He raised the manus in question. It did not look any better, but nor did it look to have worsened. “I meant it when I said I can hardly feel it, but I admit that ever since you made its presence known to me, it’s been starting to itch.”

  “Perhaps that book of yours will list some kind of remedy for wolfsbane irritation.”

  “Doubtful,” he said, not unkindly, “but we can take a look as soon as we stop for the night.”

  “Regardless, we can have Mr. Albescu examine it when we return to Fenwick,” she said. “He’s certain to keep a salve or two in his coach that could treat—”

  Her words were knocked from her mouth as her right leg was suddenly lost beneath the surface of the ground, disappearing almost up to her knee. It took all the grace that she could muster not to tumble to the ground, even as her leg burned with a sharp iciness; had Finn not grabbed her by her arm, the rest of her body would have surely followed her frigid limb into the abyss. Finn, using a strength that she did not know he possessed, yanked her free of the hidden pool. They stumbled away from the pond, but thankfully neither of them fell, and Sybil managed to regain her balance on her newly numb foot.

  “Are you alright?” Finn asked.

  Sybil nodded. She was already shivering. “Yes. Thank you, Finn. I would be neck deep in trouble right now were it not for you.”

  “Think nothing of it. I’m just glad it is only your leg that got wet.”

  “I couldn’t even see that pool,” she said. “It’s becoming more dangerous out here by the minute.”

  Fin turned his head at a gust of wind that whistled its way through the watching trees. “I get the sense it’s going to be getting even worse soon. Looks like a storm is coming in.”

  “Then we need to find shelter as quickly as possible.”

  He watched her fail to suppress a shiver. “We also need to warm you up ere that chill takes its toll.”

  Sybil flashed him a smile as she shook. “Says the one who took off his hat and gloves because he was too warm.”

  “I’m also not the one falling into pools of water.” He delayed in returning her smile. “Come. We must find a place where we can start a fire—and we must do so before the cold of the winter night makes itself known.”