Chapter 20
As soon as Horacio stepped through the rickety door, he felt like he had run into a wall. The pungent stench of the swamp hit him instantly, making him feel nauseous. He was standing on a small wooden porch that wrapped around the cabin. The house was standing in a mire of purplish-green ooze. Tall, thick trees with huge arching roots rose from the swamp, blocking much of the sun with thousands of black leaves above.
"You've got to be kidding me," he mumbled, staring into the syrupy muck. "You couldn't even row a boat through this stuff!"
When he circled the house and found the dock, he was in even more disbelief. A decrepit rowboat was tied to the end of the dock. It looked as old as the cabin and Horacio was afraid it would sink with just the slightest bit of pressure. Fragments of white paint hung onto the hull here and there, but it was mostly a dry brown color. The bottom of the boat appeared soggy and Horacio was reluctant to step into it.
Knowing Link was in danger finally propelled him into the rowboat, and to his surprise, it remained afloat. The instant he lowered the oars into the muck, a glow seemed to emanate from the depths below. Shreds of milky white swam through the sludge with ease, letting out an eerie low hum. He ignored the bizarre appearance of the swamp and pulled against the oars.
One of them snapped off in his hand, the rotten end sinking slowly into the mire. With wide eyes, Horacio examined the other oar to make sure it wasn't as brittle before he tried to put any pressure on it. It looked okay, so he carefully tugged at it with both hands, straining against the swamp's resistance. Finally the boat jerked loose from the sticky buildup on the hull and started gliding slowly across the surface.
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Moblin Temple, year 102
Baro tugged at the heavy rope attached to the brass bell hanging in the tower high above. The low, melodic bangs pulsated through the stone temple, calling all the priests to the sanctuary. He tied up the rope to a hook on the wall and climbed down the notches in the wall of stone to kneel in his place on the floor of the large room. Sunlight shone in through slits high in the wall, and one shaft shone particularly bright on the idol of Manso, a small golden statue of a serpent with emerald eyes.
As the priests filtered into the room, Baro couldn't stop thinking about the strange medallion he had found two days ago. It was bronze, with the ancient character for "water" - a short, horizontal squiggly line - carved in the center on both sides. He was trying to figure out if it was one of the legendary magic medallions used to control the elements or just a small trinket that had landed in the bushes somehow.
The Kenak Mountains stood to the east. The medallion may have come from there. That place was bursting with strange magic. The small, dark-skinned humans of the jungle were extremely dangerous, and all Moblins always avoided venturing into their territory.
Baro did not remember that morning's prayer - his mind was too eager to get back to his room and examine the medallion further. The Elder was always admonishing him for letting his mind wander when he should be meditating. Baro had tried to concentrate in the past, but now that the medallion was here, it was nearly impossible to focus on anything else. After simply looking the object over countless times, Baro had started doing experiments on it with fire and any chemicals he could gather.
During the morning meditation, an idea came to him as if he had hit a brick wall. He hadn't tried putting it in water. As simple as it sounded, he decided that must be the key. Why else would the character for water be etched on it? Would it do something when placed underwater?
As soon as the meditation was over, he sprang up and was the first one out the door. There was a sink in his room; he would try it as soon as he got there.
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Horacio clenched his teeth as he strained against the glowing sludge. The only things he saw were the huge moss-covered column-like tree trunks and the flat expanse of algae-covered syrupy muck. The only sounds were the rhythmic chirping of insects and his oar slapping against the surface of the swamp. The stench of the swamp filled his nostrils and blocked out all other smells. His fingers began to blister against the rough, splintered wood.
Slowly, he was aware of a new sound, blurring its way into existence. A soft, soothing melody floated amid the trees; it was like a mixture of a flute and a woman's voice. Then, another voice joined in. The tension in Horacio's jaw and arms was released, and he let the oar slip into the water. Soon, still another voice accompanied the first two, and the result was a beautiful, enchanting, eerie song that drifted around Horacio's ears.
He peered into the water at the swirls of ghostly white. Flawless female faces started appearing deep in the swamp and then vanished in an instant, only to be replaced by new ones. Horacio could feel his fear melt into the soft, flowing music, and he didn't notice that he was leaning far over the edge, causing the boat to tip over.
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Moblin Temple, year 102
Baro quickly closed his door behind him, being careful not to make a loud noise. The medallion was in a small puzzle box inside his drawer. He grabbed the stone pyramid and twisted all the interlocking pieces until the top snapped off. Thank goodness, the medallion was still in the velvet-covered container. Even though it was highly unlikely anyone could break into his room and then into the confusing pyramid box, he was always on edge before opening it.
He carried the bronze disk to the rough stone sink set into the wall and shoved the plug into the drain. After turning the knob and letting water fill the sink halfway, he lowered the medallion into the water. Nothing happened.
Baro stood silently for a minute, staring at the distorted image of the medallion under the rippling water. Suddenly it started emitting a strange greenish-purplish substance. His eyes widened and he watched closely as the water turned a sickly brown. A putrid smell wafted into his nostrils, causing him to recoil from the sink. What use was this? Who wanted a medallion that turned water into some kind of disgusting substance?
Unless that's its very purpose, he thought. A device used to ruin your enemy's water source. In that case, it's lucky I have it and not the Kenaks, since our water comes from there. I'd better make sure to keep it in a safer place.
He quickly thrust his hand into the muck and wrenched the medallion from the bottom. Satisfied that he could touch the stuff, he reached in and unplugged the sink, allowing the waste to slowly filter down through the pipes. It took a good washing to get everything clean, and the smell still didn't fully go away until three days later. He needed to put this somewhere where it would never be found.
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The instant Horacio hit the water, he felt as though he had landed on a slab of icy marble. His eyes shut quickly to block out the swamp water, and he flailed his arms frantically. It was no use; the muck was pulling him down and he couldn't get his head up to get a breath. He wasn't even sure which way up or down was.
Clammy, spidery fingers trailed along his body. All he could hear were light whispers, like a breeze blowing through a willow tree. The thick sludge blocked out everything else. His chest yearned for air, but he couldn't find any. He could hear the soothing melody slowly come back into existence, but this time it only terrified him and he struggled to kick his way free of the syrup.
His chest muscles automatically kicked in, sucking swamp water down his windpipe and into his lungs. For a brief moment, a freezing sensation took over him. Then everything flickered out.
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Link had been tied back up in the sack, and Tael was hovering in the opposite corner worriedly. Freid casually sat at the table in between them. There was no way for him to bind Tael, but there was also no way for Tael to overpower the Moblin. Tael felt that he had the disadvantage.
Freid glanced out the broken window across the room, and Tael looked as well. Horacio was out of sight now. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor took Tael's attention back to Freid; he was standing up. To Tael's surprise, the old Moblin was holding a club, and he gave Link a solid whack across the head. Tael let out a staccato dinging noise as Link's head slumped to the side, showing the fresh, red wound on the side. What was he doing?
Freid slung the bag over his shoulder, and, after blowing out the candle, strode toward the door. Tael's body was propelled with an explosion of rage, and he flew at Freid. The Moblin's free hand swung outward and smacked Tael in midair, sending the fairy into a spiraling nosedive. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
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Moblin Village, year 102
"So you'll keep it in the vaults?" Baro asked, producing a bundle of brown cloth from a fold of his white robe. The tall white stalk-like creature in front of him nodded its bulbous, spore-filled cap silently. Beneath the deep green cap rested two small black eyes and a thin slit for a mouth. A slender arm was stretched outwards, palm up.
Baro hesitated. The Fungistuls were known for their extensive crystal vaults, impossible to break into. He felt that entrusting the medallion to them was necessary, but he couldn't help but feel a little reluctant to part with it for some reason. It felt as though the medallion were part of him.
The Fungistul coaxed him back into reality, and Baro quickly handed over the bundle to get it over with. He thought he glimpsed the Fungistul's tight mouth curl into a slight smile, but he couldn't be sure. Before he knew what was happening, the mushroom had vanished into the foliage. Baro shook his head and tromped back through the bushes into the village.
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Link gradually became aware of his surroundings. He was hanging over a Moblin's shoulder like a potato sack again, and he could see a greenish blur through the splintered planks of wood under the Moblin's feet. It looked like they were walking across some sort of bridge high above the forest floor. He struggled to lift his head and was shocked to see that it was more than that.
Giant mushroom stalks surrounded them, the caps blocking out three-fourths of the bright midday sky above. Pebble-sized spike-covered spores hovered everywhere. He tilted his head painfully and looked over the side of the bridge. Huge insects scuttled along through the tall grass, some of them climbing up the mushroom stalks. A line of red ants stretched underneath the bridge, and a gigantic spider web connected two mushrooms: one with three tiers of reddish orange caps and one with a cup-like blue spotted cap, both with white stalks.
So that was why he was on a bridge...but where was he?
Freid. Horacio. The names came rushing to his mind. What had happened? Had Horacio come back? Then where was he going right now? Where was Tael?
Link adjusted his position; Freid's shoulder was cutting into his stomach. Suddenly he felt himself slip forwards. Unable to stop himself, he squirmed in the sack to avoid falling headfirst to the ground. Freid mistook the action for an escape attempt and squeezed Link harder, pressing the side of his spiked gauntlet into Link's back. Link's legs kicked upwards and caught Freid in the jaw.
The stunned Moblin dropped backwards, letting Link fall dangerously close to the edge. Freid quickly stood and unsheathed Link's sword from his belt, holding it at Link's neck. His face clearly got his idea across; he could push Link off into the nest of huge insects with a nudge of his foot if he wanted to. The question was, why didn't he? Where were they going?
After the Moblin heaved Link back onto his shoulder, he strode across the sturdy wooden bridge for a few minutes. Link's eyelids were just about to shut when Freid suddenly stopped. Link twisted his head around the Moblin's side to see what was going on. Freid didn't try to stop him.
Ahead, the dense foliage dropped into a huge, deep, black pit. From the center rose an enormous, thick, pale blue mushroom with an entire city built on its cap. Arms of stone arched from the side of the pit to the stalk, which was glowing. The buildings on the cap were either made of smooth, curving grayish stone or individual mushrooms of different colors. Everything had a well-rounded look.
It had to be the Fungistul city. But why was Freid going here? Maybe his original attitude towards them had merely been a mask in order to get information from them. Was it possible that the Fungistuls wanted Link specifically? Too many questions, Link thought, irritated. I need answers.
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