“Stupid girl,” Akishen yawned when we roused her. She propped herself up on her elbow in her comfortable cot, and rubbed deep sleep from her eyes. “All Vyneshi know the stories.”

  “Stupid of you not to propose a watch — we are not Vyneshi,” I grunted. Where are they taking her?”

  Akishen blinked, then her bright orange eyes, almost giving their own light in the near utter darkness, met mine.

  “They’re tales meant to frighten children — cautionary tales of wandering too far in the dark. Perhaps that’s what the parents within the safe walls of Ith-Korr tell their children, anyway. We of the jungle know better.”

  “Stop your navel-gazing, we haven’t the time,” I spat. I grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. Her small, lithe form found its feet and she tried to pull her hand free, furious.

  “Unhand me!”

  “Where are they leading her?” I repeated, teeth bared.

  She didn’t drop her stern gaze, but shirked a little at my tone.

  “Deeper into the Marshes — I don’t know! It’s said they always come for those too curious for their own good.”

  “Our deal was for you to bring all of us to the Crimson Crown, so you better hope we find her quickly.”

  She nodded silently, and gathered her things. I walked to Alator’s side, where he still stood outside the root cave, peering out into the starlit fog.

  “Absolutely no sign. None of the yellow lights to follow, either,” Alator said.

  “We’ll just have to start looking.”

  He clicked his teeth. We don’t need her, and We were fine without, and She is only a burden. I felt all of these thoughts coming from him, but he didn’t voice them. Instead, he nodded and started scanning the foggy start of the marsh.

  “Thank you,” I muttered. “I know this goes against your nature.”

  He looked at me and his mouth twitched half to a smile.

  I reached into my pouch and touched the Analysis Card. Nothing.

  It can peer through darkness, so I imagine it has no issue with fog. She must be out of our line of sight.

  I looked up at the trees. It was sparse on the outskirts of the swamp, but the trees that had leant its roots to us for our sleep loomed high, its gnarled branches twisting into the dark, barely visible above the haze.

  “I need to climb a tree.”

  “You’ll not see better through the fog from up there,” Akishen said.

  She looked over the ground.

  “There really are no tracks,” she mumbled. “You’ve a very inconvenient companion.”

  Looking down from the tree, I saw the Shadow Prowler lieutenant busied herself putting kindling together for a fire.

  “Won’t that draw aggro?” I asked.

  “It will bring fiends, yes,” she replied, “But if we get lost in the fog, we’ll need light to find our way back. The fog of Nyl-Vasha never lifts — I’d rather fight a swarm of Dumbledors than wander this marsh until I died of thirst.”

  Good point. And good idea! I took out the last of my Chitin Fragments and touched the Analysis Card.

  Should be able to see this from a distance the same way I can scan people. This’ll help me find my way back. I placed the chitin on a high ridge of root at the entrance to the cave. Akishen brought out the Firestarter that I’d seen work a few times before, a palm-sized oval of obsidian and resin, and held it against the rough hilt of her Bronze Sword.

  “Akishen, hold off for a second, light it when we’re all ready. No use in drawing fiends before we’re gone. Alator, give me a leg up.”

  He linked his hands together by the base of the tree. I ran to him and at a leap, pushed off his steel fingers as he threw me near eight yards up to the nearest low-hanging branch. I hoisted myself upwards. My hands found purchase on the rough bark, damp with moss.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  The climb was arduous, each branch coated in a slick film that made every move a gamble. The marsh was ALIVE around me — the croaking of distant fiends and the ever-present shrieks seemed amplified as I climbed with my heart beating echoes in my ears, and the unsettling song of the marshlights, always at the edge of my perception.

  When I finally broke through the mist canopy, the sight stole my breath. The Nyl-Vasha marsh stretched endlessly beneath the three moons and sparkling stars, an alien landscape of pale light and black water.

  Then I saw it — a faint, yellow light weaving as if through sparse trees or deeper puddles.

  Analysis.

  The box popped up as expected, in an otherwise unbroken sea of marsh fog, illuminated by pale moonlight. As I watched, I saw it move perpendicular, quickly, then turn and rush away for a minute, then turn again to go back on itself, then set off in a new direction.

  Her Weakness had changed — Fearful of the cold where before it was Fearful of tight spaces.

  She’s lost, and panicking, I thought, then another fear gripped me: Or being chased by something.

  “There!” I called down, pointing. Alator and Akishen squinted up at me and followed the line, of course blindly.

  “How far?” Alator asked back. I stared off into the distance and tried to work out distance from my angle, but the dense and tall blanket of fog made it impossible. I dropped down, caught the branch below with my hands, grunting, and lowered myself to the ground.

  “No way of knowing,” I shrugged, “But not miles.”

  Alator nodded.

  “Start searching. Keep close to the edge of the marsh, then double back when you can’t go any further. I should be able to locate you both wherever you are. If you find yourself completely lost . . . take something out of your inventory and hold it above your head.”

  Puzzled, Akishen glared at me for a moment, probing or assessing something, then shrugged. “Like this?”

  She took out a piece of Boar Jerky. With my hand still on the Analysis Card, I saw the text box pop up and move around as she held it. She looked ridiculous.

  “Perfect,” I said, stifling a laugh. She huffed and pocketed the jerky.

  “You’re humiliating me.”

  “A little,” I smiled.

  “Ugh,” came the response. She then struck the Firestarter against the hilt of her sword, caught the kindling and dry moss set out on the floor. It lit instantly into flames and she prodded a few larger sticks nearer to it, then pushed a large piece of deadwood into it, then after a few moments, another.

  “That’ll give us an hour. Be back before then,” she said, then set off without another word.

  “Split up?” Alator suggested.

  Didn’t much enjoy the prospect of wandering a brand new area, especially with SYS’s opening spiel still ringing in my ears, but I gritted my teeth.

  “She’s running around. In this fog we could pass within a few yards of her and not see her. It’ll be faster apart,” I agreed.

  Trudging through the Nyl-Vasha Marsh at night was an exercise in slow, deliberate survival. The fog wrapped around me like a clammy shroud, seeping damp into my armour and sandals. At first, each step was a gamble, but I took eventually to using the shaft of my spear as a sort of probing rod, testing every step. Even seemingly solid earth sometimes suddenly gave way to sinkholes or boggy patches, as if the marsh itself was attempting to trick me and drag me down.

  Alator disappeared quickly in another direction, and an eerie, heavy, deafening silence pushed like cold fingers into my temples, broken only by the echoing calls of my companions. Then I realised the song of the marshlight continued, but at times seemed to be emanating from somewhere inside me, mixing with my own thoughts. I caught myself humming along to it, and stopped myself.

  “Lenya?”

  “Lenya!”

  Then, as if punctuating the oppression — or reinforcing the pressure — small, rhythmic splashes echoed faintly. Perhaps frogs diving into water, or the measured paddling of unseen creatures. The buzz of night insects hummed in unison in clusters, coming and going.

  A little while later, somewhere, deeper in the mist, an unfamiliar call rang out — a resonant, low gloop, followed by a ripple that my bare ankles felt. Then something else, like the clearing of a throat. Last I heard of my companions, they were far away. Lenya? I froze, spear poised, and scanned the opaque darkness. The marsh had other ways of playing tricks.

  “Lenya?” I whispered, and edged forwards. Narrow reeds brushed against my legs, and tiny fireflies like pinpricks of light came briefly and went. Then a splash too close for comfort broke the rhythm, followed by silence as I stopped moving entirely.

  Analysis.

  I peered out, clutching the Analysis Card in my fist, feeling the energy it consumed. After the rest at Ith-Korr, the stream of my inner power was flowing clear and gently, but my muscles and bones ached from the fight earlier, and exhaustion was seeping in. We can’t have slept long, I guessed.

  As I watched, the fog cleared slightly around a patch of murky water, barely shin-deep. At first, it seemed empty, just an expanse of placid black reflecting the stars and moons above, but then it shook and a layer of thick marsh mud slid to the side, and a box popped up.

  They cover themselves with mud, must still think it’s hidden.

  The subtle mound of moss-covered chitin, about the size of my Wooden Shield, created a small island that at first, to unlearned eyes, looked just as part of the marsh as any other. But focusing on it, there was a pattern on the back of the crab fiend — made of bone, it looked as if the crab had embedded shards into its shell, fashioning a macabre armour, the shape of an uncanny face with fierce eyes and cruel grin.