Chapter 21

Blue light flickered on the other side of Horacio's eyelids. Am I dead? He coughed violently and tasted the rancid swamp water drip from his mouth. A shrill screech brought his eyelids up, and he scanned his surroundings for the source of the sound. He was in a large cube-shaped room made of stone, lit only by two pearlescent blue lanterns on either side of him and a shaft of light coming in through a doorway up in one corner of the room.

He was sitting on a warm, slimy stone bench between the lanterns. It rested on a square island in the center of the room, surrounded by ghostly purple ooze. A large red mushroom with shelves splayed out here and there along the stem formed steps to the ledge where light was coming in.

Horacio cautiously stood and climbed the strange stairs, observing the walls of the room. They were darkened and slimy up to a little under the ledge at the top of the steps. From there up, they were dry. He glanced back downwards and noticed a tunnel covered by a grating at the base of each wall. Probably not a good sign. But if he could just walk out of there, there was no problem.

Unfortunately he found that the passageway out was blocked. Iron bars stretched from the floor to the ceiling across the whole hallway, which turned a corner just past the bars. There was a lever sticking out of the wall on the other side of the bars. It probably opened the gate, but he couldn't reach it. Was there anything else in the room?

Yes, there was another lever right next to him! It must be my lucky day, he thought as he pulled the lever. A screech filled the room, and then a gurgling, rushing sound. Horacio spun around and noticed ripples emanating from the gateways at the bases of the walls. Slime oozed over the island in the middle until it was completely covered. It continued to rise, enveloping the bench, and finally the tops of the lanterns. The room grew darker, but the swamp water began to glow with an eerie blue.

Like Horacio expected, the water stopped rising at the point where the walls were light-colored. A foreboding silence filled the chamber, which now looked significantly smaller. Then a large bubble broke the surface of the water, followed by thousands of tiny bubbles. Horacio backed up against the iron gate as the top of something big emerged from the slime. Maybe it wasn't so lucky after all.

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Fungistul City, year 506

Gary ventured a peek over the massive fern leaf he was hiding behind. The pale blue fungal city in the center of the chasm remained silent, but he could see a few strange mushroom-shaped creatures strolling back and forth along the walls of the village. Palter kept watch for any gargantuan insects in case they had to climb into one of the mushroom trees nearby for safety.

"I'm going to do it," Gary whispered, tilting his head slightly so Palter could hear.

"No you're not," Palter rasped back. "We don't know who lives there. It might be dangerous!"

"Whoever lives there probably has something to do with Dad's disappearance. I thought you were in this with me!" Gary pleaded.

"You're only seventeen, Gary. Those people...if they did something to Dad, you're not going to fare much better. I can't let you go in there, especially at midnight."

"You're not much older! I know they took Dad. We have to go. That was the whole point of the trip. And we can sneak in more easily at night. I'm not going to wait around to let some bugs eat us while we could be getting revenge."

"Gary, we don't even know they have anything to do with it," Palter whispered, grabbing Gary's arm. "We're going back now. You told me this was going to be a normal old camping trip in the woods. You need to let go of Dad's death. Nothing you do will make it right, especially killing innocent people."

"No!" Gary jerked his arm away from his older brother. "Stop it! He's not dead; I know he's not dead! And those things aren't innocent! I saw them take him. It happened right in front of me!" Gary burst into tears, and he shoved away from Palter.

"Gary...it's not your fault."

Gary looked away for a few minutes. The saltwater on his cheeks glistened in the soft moonlight, and his eyes twinkled with a new passion.

"I'm going. I'm going to save him." Palter had no choice but to watch as Gary pushed through the thick vegetation; his wiry body soon disappeared into the night.

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It was almost like a dream. Link hung half-asleep over Freid's shoulder as they passed over the smooth, arched stone bridge into the city. Blue mushrooms with wooden doors, windowpanes, and a soft glow lined the streets. One by one, human-sized mushrooms slowly left their houses to see what was passing. By now, Link was used to the musty smell, so he didn't notice. Had he been dropped into the city directly from a clean environment, he probably would have fainted.

Now he just felt drowsy. Maybe it was the work of the Fungistuls, like Freid had talked about. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure how much he could trust the Moblin's words anymore. It seemed that Freid was in league with the Fungistuls, the very creatures he had warned were dangerous. Link hoped the Fungistuls could speak Hylian so he could get an explanation for all this.

He never got a chance to see where they were going; he fell fast asleep over Freid's shoulder.

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Horacio clenched the iron bars behind him with white knuckles. Out of the mire rose a giant reddish-orange flower, wielding two long, thorny brown vines. Each petal of the flower was lined with sharp white needles, and a thick meaty tongue rose from the center. The pair of vines slapped the water, feeling for its prey. The four petals opened and closed with anticipation.

The lever was jammed; as hard as Horacio strained to push it back to its original position it wouldn't budge. His only choices were to get rid of that thing or somehow avoid it until he could find an alternate escape. Panic clouded his mind as a vine came dangerously close to his platform. Think! Think! Escape door!

The gratings underwater. Could he pull one out and swim through the tunnel? It was certainly risky; there was no knowing if the tunnel ever came out into fresh air. No matter, it was riskier to stand so close to those vines. He quickly (and silently, so he hoped) dove into the muck, struggling downwards blindly. Open your eyes, you can't see. No, don't open your eyes! Who knows what that stuff is made of? But what if it's my only choice? No...I can't open my eyes. I just can't...

Something grabbed his leg, and his eyes shot open in shock. Instantly the sting of the swamp water penetrated into his eyeballs, but he could see! Surprisingly, the slime was relatively clear under the surface. He could see a grating just ahead - suddenly he was jerked backwards. No! It must've sensed me diving in.

Horacio twisted around and carefully but forcefully tried to wrench the spiky vine from his ankle. It was surprisingly strong; he couldn't even slip it down a little. Before he knew what was happening, he was violently fished from the water and he was dangling upside down above the creature's mouth. A foul, rotten smell wafted upwards, and he could almost feel the slimy purple tongue sliding over him.

When he felt the vine ease up on its grip, he swung upwards and grabbed the tentacle, missing the stem and slicing his right hand on a sharp thorn. His leg was released and he hung there, trying to keep his hold while the beast tried to shake him off. The drops of blood that fell into its mouth fueled its desire for meat, and the four petals rose to snatch Horacio's dangling feet.

Before it could snap up his calves, Horacio kicked the inside of the monster's petals, just below the hollow fangs. It let out a piercing squeal and flung him across the room. Horacio splashed into the water just before he would have hit the wall. He needed some kind of plan if the tentacles tried to grab him again.

When he found one of the ducts, he floated in front of it, watching the surface. A vine shot down into the water towards him, and he ducked out of the way quickly. The tentacle wrapped around a bar of the grating, and Horacio wasted no time in skillfully tying it in place. He kicked to the surface to get air and found that he was quite close to the platform where the doorway was.

It would be easier to tie the other tentacle to those bars, since they were above water. Horacio swam to the ledge and pulled himself up. Now that the beast was through trying to pull away from the grating underwater, it searched for Horacio. It took longer to find him this time, since he was back out of the water. When it finally happened, Horacio used the same technique to fasten the remaining vine to the bars of the gate.

The struggling plant strained against the two vines, then suddenly vanished underwater with a flourish of bubbles. The ends of the tentacles floated freely in the water, as if it had detached them in order to escape and grow new ones. Horacio looked back and forth from the long vine in his possession to the switch on the other side of the gate. Maybe it was his lucky day after all, despite the bloody flap of skin that now hung from his palm.

With much pain, he pulled in the other end of the vine, untied it from the bars, and then tied one end into a lasso. After a few tries of tossing it through the gap between bars, he landed it on the lever and wasted no time in giving it a sharp tug. The lever groaned towards him, and after a clacking, creaking sound, the gate was up. Now what was around the corner?

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The heavy, wooden doors groaned and slammed shut behind Freid. He found himself in complete darkness, except for a ring of blue light at the far side of the room. There was no way to tell how big the room was; the darkness seemed to extend infinitely. Then again, he couldn't see the door behind him any more, so as far as he knew, he could be in a thin hallway. A voice came from the end of the room, where all the glowing mushrooms were.

"Who is it that enters my fine hall?"

"It is Freid, Sire," the Moblin said, now not so sure about this meeting. The voice was booming and harsh but well controlled.

"Wonderful! And you've found the boy?" The voice's tone had softened, and the pitch was higher.

"He fits the description exactly. I caught him in the woods east of here." Freid adjusted the heavy bag over his shoulder. The boy was still asleep inside it; Freid was amazed at how easily he had given in to the Fungistuls' magic. Maybe it was just the fact that humans were much weaker than Moblins.

"Come forward and present him to me at once!"

Freid was a little reluctant about walking toward the eerie glow, especially because it looked as though he was crossing a gigantic black chasm. Whoever belonged to the strange nasal voice was still hidden. Eventually he gave in and allowed his feet to carry him slowly towards the light. He had been promised a large reward for finding the boy; the Fungistuls would cleanse and drain his ancestors' city beneath the swamp.

The answer to how the mushrooms had the power to do so eluded him, but according to his ancestor's journal, the strange Fungistuls were the ones that turned the village into a swamp in the first place, using a medallion he had placed in their care. If they had the power to create a swamp, they could certainly take it away. His only worry was that they might not meet their promise.

Suddenly he was in the light. He froze in shock. A cluster of pale mushrooms formed a throne in front of him, where a small Fungistul was sitting. His color was exactly the same as the other mushrooms.

Freid lowered the bag to the floor and slipped the still unconscious boy out. There was a moment of silence as the Fungistul king leaned over, examined the body, and Freid examined the king's face, searching for a hint as to his thoughts. The mushroom had no expression. Then, he sat upright and looked directly into Freid's eyes.

"That's him. That's the one who stole my pearl."

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