Episode 59

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

If you were to stand at the window in the top room of the tallest tower of the old palace in Freedos and look northeast you would see surprisingly little. To your right, there would be the ocean, as blue as it is vast. To your left there would be the fields that feed Freedos. But straight ahead, between these, there is nothing but flat, wet marshland that spans miles and miles over the horizon and into the distance. Too wet to ride through but not wet enough to sail, these sodden salt fields are home to specially adapted animals and plants that can survive the salinated saturation. Tall grass grows on little islands making the place look like a map of some waterlogged, alien world. Some islands will hold your weight, others will sink quickly and bring you down into the salty waters with them. Suffice to say, only fools ventured out over the horizon and into the Drygemarsh.

Cromwell Attorcop, a fool, stared out over the marsh now. His eye was trained on a black dot in the distance. The two young people who followed him had not noticed it, but Cromwell watched its movements closely, permitting himself a look down at his feet only when he was very unsure of his next step. He’d managed to avoid a soaking so far and would prefer to keep it that way. It was hard to make out through the gloom of early morning, but after much study, Cromwell was sure that the dot was a man on a raft. They’d found his cart and horse hours ago and had been forced to abandon their own mounts nearby. The marsh was no place for horses and since they had no boats their only choice was to pick their way across the islands. Testing each one with large sticks before committing to jumping across.

Serena had completely shed the lady that her mother had encouraged her to become for so many years. If the old bag had seen her now in leather boots, sturdy jodhpurs and a thick travelling coat hopping her way across a muddy, grubby marsh she would have had a heart attack. Flicking her golden hair back so that it caught the light of the morning she turned to back to Peter and smiled.

“This one’s alright. Quickly now Peter, and mind your step.”

For his part, Peter was trying his best to appear half as confident as Serena. He’d stepped into a shallow pool about an hour ago and his right foot was now completely soaked, which did little for his swagger and made him watch where he was going even more so. In that moment he was so busy staring at Serena, at how the dawn mist dusted her chill-reddened cheeks with a sheen of moisture, and how here hair seemed to float in the breeze like she was already underwater that he completely forgot what he was doing and put his left foot into a very muddy puddle.

“Demons dammit!” he cursed.

Serena threw her head back and laughed, “Ha! Was that the other foot? Honestly it’s like you’re trying to get wet at this point Peter Sturgeon.”

Peter yanked his boot out with a sucking squelch and even though he wanted to curse and cry, he couldn’t help but smile at Serena’s clever play on his name.

“Give me a mountain to climb any day over this wet nonsense. There I’d be zipping up like a squirrel, here I’m just a…”

“A fish out of water?” Serena quipped.

“Aye. And one with a very muddy boot to boot. And if you don’t want to get kicked you’d best be careful.” He made to go for her and she squealed and twisted out of the way.

This pair’s incessant flirting had been charming at first but Mr Attorcop was quickly growing weary of it, “Quiet down you two,” he rebuked, “sound travels far across water and your disturbing the birds. We mustn’t give away our position.” The pair reduced their laughter to muffled giggles and everyone went back to picking their way through the grass and water. At one point Serena had to cup her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Mr Attorcop looked down at her feet to see something big and scaly wriggling quickly out of her way. Everyone was even more careful of where they stepped after that.

After three hours the group began to get tired. They had supplies with them, but Mr Attorcop was wary of stopping for too long, lest they lose sight of their quarry. And so they chewed on dried meat and ate apples as they walked. Whoever it was they were following had slowed their pace, enough for them to close some distance between them. This made following them easier but increased their chances of being spotted. Mr Attorcop was very aware that at any moment they might be waylaid by a fall, an animal attack or a sprained ankle and so he considered the closeness to be a well calculated risk.

“Who is he anyway?” Serena spoke in a loud whisper, not wishing to disturb any more birds or indeed anything…else.

“His name is Fenric,” replied Mr Attorcop, “Lilian’s message came by bird and so could not contain much information. She told me where he would be heading and how he was travelling. She said he’s dangerous and that she needs to know what he’s doing. This is a reconnaissance mission so we should try not to engage. If we can figure out why he’d come all the way out here, perhaps who he’s visiting and why, then our job will be done.”

Peter considered this, “Once we know, can we go to Benlunar to tell Lilian ourselves?”

“Ooh yes!” agreed Serena, “I should like that very much.” Mr Attorcop did not reply. He still had duties to fulfil in Freedos but a trip to Benlunar might do him good. The capital was running surprisingly smoothly and he might use the trip to test whether or not he was actually needed. Surely the people of Freedos could fend for themselves for a few weeks? If they couldn’t then he had failed and would at least know he’d have to start again.

“Perhaps,” he mumbled under his breath. Serena shot Peter an excited grin.

Since it was the middle of winter the sun set frustratingly early that day. The man they were following had lit a small torch which made him relatively easy to follow through the darkness. Mr Attorcop could not afford such a luxury as it would quickly give away their position. The water around them became pools of darkness making it next to impossible to find a safe and dry passage. Everyone’s feet were wet and cold to the point of numbness. They pressed on though, knowing that the man’s destination could not be far. They’d been travelling all day and there was nothing but ocean on the other side of this marsh. If his goal had been to reach the sea then there were easier and quicker ways than this. That meant his goal was somewhere in the marsh. Mr Attorcop scanned the horizon for a shack, a tower, a boat, anything that might convey some sort of meeting point.

At about one in the morning, he saw it. He had been watching the torchlight bobbing through the darkness when all of a sudden it winked out of sight. Mr Attorcop froze. The one constant he’d had throughout the night had just vanished. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his heart rate.

“Wha… Where’s it gone?” Mr Attorcop could hear panic in Peter’s voice. He scanned the horizon around where he’d last seen the flickering flame and noticed a slight discolouration where the ground met the sky.

“There,” he said, pointing to practically nothing. “It’s a mound or a hill of some sort. He must have gone behind it. We need to pick up our pace.” The three of them summoned all of their remaining energy, energy that the Drygemarsh had been slowly sapping from them for hours, and trudged onwards at double speed.

About halfway from that point to the mound disaster struck. Mr Attorcop heard a gasp of breath and a small cry coming from his left. He whipped round to see what had happened. He had expected to see Peter standing there, hopping on another wet foot, but Peter was gone.

“Peter?” Serena’s concerned voice cut through the darkness. For a bone chilling instant, there was no reply.

“Down here.” Mr Attorcop approached the spot where the reply had come from, all too aware that they were losing time. If the man they were following decided to put his torch out and continue into the distance, he’d be lost to them within a quarter of an hour. It didn’t take long to locate Peter. At first, Mr Attorcop assumed that he’d simply tripped and was being squeamish about getting back up. But then his eye ran down Peter’s coat and he became confused as to why he couldn’t see his legs.

“I’m stuck,” said Peter with a jokey smile. He was knee deep in wet silt and whenever he tried to lift one foot out the effort was pushing his other foot deeper. Mr Attorcop sensed that his humour was hiding panic. He knelt down near the lad and spoke in his most reassuring tone.

“Peter. Look at me. Take a nice long deep breath and listen to what I tell you.” He waited for the boy to breathe out before continuing.” Serena and I are going to get you out. It’s going to be very easy, you just have to do a couple of things first alright?” Peter nodded. Even in the pitch black Mr Attorcop could see his face turn pale. “I want you to let yourself sink a little.”

“But…” Peter started to protest but Mr Attorcop cut him off.

“I know that’s not what you want to do but that’s fine. Trust me, I’ve been in your situation and it’s the only way out. Just let yourself sink a bit further so that you can move your knee and thigh around in the mud.” Peter swallowed hard and looked at Serena for reassurance. She smiled reassuringly but there was fear in her eyes.

Peter looked back at Mr Attorcop and lifted his hand. “If you grab my hand I’m sure you could pull me out.” Mr Attorcop did not respond. Serena instinctively stepped forward but Mr Attorcop put his hand up to stop her.

“We’re not going to do that Peter.” Mr Attorcop tried to make his voice sound calm and confident. Peter looked hurt and betrayed. He was about to protest but Mr Attorcop anticipated his question. “If you pull one of us off balance then we might land head first in the mud and then we’d be in an even worse situation. You have to trust me Peter, this is the best situation we could be in. You’ll be fine.”

Peter looked as though he was about to speak, but said nothing. He just looked down and let the mud take him deeper. Mr Attorcop glanced over his shoulder, just to make sure he could still find the mound in the distance. When he looked back, Peter had sunk further and was getting whiter with every inch. “You’re doing really well Peter. You’re doing everything right. Now I want you to put all your weight onto your left leg. Lean to the left, that’s it.” Peter did as he was instructed. “Now I want you to start shifting your right leg forward and backwards. You’re trying to get water into the gaps between your leg and the mud. Mr Attorcop permitted himself another glance back towards the small hill.

Peter followed the instruction to the letter and in just a few seconds he was able to move his leg around with relative ease. “Good work Peter, now slowly start to lift your leg up and out of the water. Once your foot is above the surface though, don't just stand up, put your knee down and repeat the process with the other leg.” Peter did as he was told but it was slow work. Mr Attorcop glanced back over his shoulder.

Once Peter got his left leg out Serena bent down beside Mr Attorcop and spoke into his ear. “I’ll take over. You go on ahead and catch up to him, we’ll be fine.” Mr Attorcop looked at her intensely. She pushed him a little, “Go!” she repeated, “Or else we’ll have done all this for nothing.” Mr Attorcop looked down at Peter, who was now working on releasing his second leg.

“She’s right,” he confirmed, “this isn’t too bad. I can crawl away in a second, you should go.”

And so Mr Attorcop turned to leave. Before he got too far though, he turned back and whipped off his cape. He passed it to Serena, “If he needs pulling out, use this. But only as a last resort. She grabbed it and nodded before shooing him away with her hands. Mr Attorcop looked at them both, calculated a few things in his head and then turned and ran.

Thankfully his journey to the small hill was undisturbed. He made good time, hopping from island to island and feeling the tips of the long grass whip his wrists as he ran across the marsh. With stealth no longer a priority he could use all he’d learned from this cursed journey and sprint across the marsh like a spooked hare.

He’d been referring to the spot as a hill in his mind but when he got there he saw that it was nothing more than a large mound. There was grass growing over it, just like every other patch of ground in the area but nothing other than its protrusion from the water made it particularly noteworthy. Mr Attorcop slowed down his pace as he reached it and used the bulk of it to hide his body from the expanse ahead. Peeking over the side he scanned the horizon for signs of the torch. He looked left, he looked right. But there was nothing. He permitted himself a better angle by raising his head fully over the mound but still there was no sign of their prey. He listened for the boat, for the sound of a paddle through water. Still nothing. A feeling of dread was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. With each passing second it felt as though his hope was sinking further into the icy marsh. Lilian would not have sent them out here without reason. She was protecting people, as always, and Mr Attorcop would not let her down. Not when she’d come through for him so many times in the past.

He considered pressing on into the darkness in the hope that he would catch up with this Fenric fellow. But he might end up heading in the wrong direction and be travelling for days without knowing it. His despair transformed quickly to anger. He tried not to blame poor Peter, he knew that getting stuck in the marsh could have happened to any of them, but he was a clumsy lad. Clever. But clumsy. Mr Attorcop was tired, he was hungry and he had run out of patience. In a rare fit of rage he turned and kicked the mound with the heel of his boot. It let off a low thud. Mr Attorcop heard some dust or soil crumble off it and scatter away. He turned back to look at the empty view ahead. He’d come out from behind the mound now, there was little point in hiding. He tried a few more ideas out in his mind, but it was hard going. The lack of sleep and fresh water were clouding his mind.

There must be something he missed. He slowed his breathing down and approached the situation logically. How fast had Fenric been travelling? How long had it been since he’d disappeared from sight? Did those numbers add up? No. The torch must have only gone out behind this mound a few minutes before Mr Attorcop reached it. That can’t have been long enough for Fenric to travel all the way to and over the horizon. Not at the speed he’d been travelling at any way. And why aim for this strange mound anyway? What even was this thing. After hours and hours of walking and not seeing anything like it, suddenly it appears and Fenric vanishes at the same time? No. That was too much of a coincidence. Hadn’t he just heard dust fall when he’d kicked it? This whole landscape was sodden, how could anything make a dry sound like that when there was water everywhere?

The mound suddenly became very interesting to Mr Attorcop. He walked around it, studying its every contour and each blade of grass that grew from its surface. The reeds grew in tight knots and Mr Attorcop had to separate some heavy clumps before he could see the soil beneath them. At one point he went to push the earth and found that it had a considerable give to it. The grass would bounce back as soon as he took his hand away. It was as if the mound was spongy or… hollow.

The word reverberated around Mr Attorcop’s mind like an echo. A few more minutes of study and he found the opening. The hole was surprisingly large and very well hidden by the thick grass. Mr Attorcop paused, wondering whether or not to wait for Serena and Peter. But he’d wasted enough time. And so, crouching low and collecting himself, he slipped into the darkness.

Although he could not currently see them, Mr Attorcop felt his feet hit a set of stone steps. He felt his way down and round them slowly, feeling for the edge of each step in an uneasy dance. At one point his knee hit something hard. It was made of wood and clunked loudly upon impact. Mr Attorcop assumed it to be the boat Fenric had been using to navigate the wetlands. After several minutes Mr Attorcop’s eyes began to adjust to the pitch darkness. Things were becoming sharper and clearer with every step down and when he rounded another corner he saw that this was because a torch had been lit here. It flickered and spluttered sparks across the damp stone walls, bathing everything in a harsh orange light. Mr Attorcop approached it slowly and stood next to it for a time to absorb some of its warmth into his body. The stairs continued round and downwards, bringing him ever deeper underground. It was impossible to tell how deep they went so Mr Attorcop was careful to keep an ear out for anyone coming back up the other way.

He followed the steps down past several more torches. Down and down for what felt like the better part of half an hour. Finally, just as he was considering turning around and heading back up. He came to an opening in the rock. What greeted him there took whatever was left of his breath away.

Deep under the Drygemarsh, hidden from the world, was a cave. Its ceiling, lined by spear sharp stalactites, vaulted two-hundred feet into the air. It was so far up that the light from the torches on the slippery stone floor could barely reach it. Mineral rich water fell from it like rain, slapping the pools below or running down the slick wet walls. The space itself would have been quite beautiful had it not been for the structure housed within it. Mr Attorcop’s heart faltered when he saw the building, crudely constructed there.

It was made from wood and it reminded Mr Attorcop of a Stave church that had been built entirely upside down. Its tower, which was its entrance, stood at ground level and stretched upwards into what would have been the main hall. The thing defied logic. It looked as though a loose nail or quick shove might bring it all crashing down. It was clearly very old, so old that the wood had bent and cracked in several places under its own weight. Mr Attorcop saw that there were still remnants of scaffolding attached to the cave walls. This was the only way a structure like this could remain standing. It wasn’t so much built in the cave as it was built into the cave. Wood beams came off of it like spider webs clinging desperately to the wet walls around it. The wood was not the only thing up there though. Mr Attorcop saw remnants of leathery bodies, their arms sticking out from where they had fallen during the church’s construction. It was as though death itself had been required to build this thing. Its roof, which is to say its floor, almost touched the ceiling of the cave. It was misshapen, crooked and evil.

Mr Attorcop could not help but think of it as a church. That is clearly what it was meant to resemble. But who would worship here, he wondered. The thought scared him but not so much as when he considered who, or what, they might be worshipping.

“Oh Lilian…” he wondered aloud, “what have you got yourself mixed up in now?”