Chapter 9: The Swamp

Gotta hand it to Clairwil – he picked the right man for this job. For all his whining and complaining, Bressac's a damn bloodhound out here: half an hour and another lit torch after we've left Florent's corpse behind us, we find what's left of a campfire in a clearing. The coals are still warm – we must've just missed them.

"The hell did they find decent wood?" I ask, as Bressac looks for footprints. "No way they pulled any firewood outta the carriage. Maybe flint, but…"

"What are you, blind? We're surrounded by trees," interrupts Guy, gesturing at the Weald surrounding us. "Where do you think they got the wood? What kinda idiot would you have to be to not figure out how to get firewood in a fucking forest?"

"Didn't think this stuff burned proper no more," I mutter, looking at one of the trees. There's some of the yellow fungus growin' on it – damn stuff's being spreading all over the place past couple of years. Grows on trees, rocks, animals, and even people. I seen men and women with the blight on 'em, turned into shuffling, groaning monsters outta your worst nightmares. Makes me shudder just thinking about it.

"They went east," says Bressac at last. "Tried to cover their tracks, but I can make out a footprint. And some of the branches are broken on this bush here."

"East? Toward the Cove? The hell they going there for?" I ask. Bressac shrugs.

"Probably not going that way on purpose. They musta got turned around. Guess they don't have a compass after all…well, they get lost, it just makes our job easier."

I suppose it should make things easier, at that – especially seeing as they can't be too far ahead of us now – but it don't feel that way as we get back on their trail. As we keep headin' east, we see more and more fungus growing on the trees and outta the dirt, and pretty soon, the stench of the stuff hangs thick in the air. Like mold and sawdust, and rotten fruit. I been in infected places like this before, and you never get used to the smell. We all have to stop ourselves from coughing and wheezing too much, and even the torch starts guttering orange in the sour air.

"Can't hardly breathe in this crap," wheezes Bressac, after a coughing fit. "This 'treasure' better be worth it."

"You're sure they went this way?" I ask.

"Trail don't lie," he manages, before spitting up a big clot of phlegm. "Ah, that's better."

Trail might not lie, but she's a treacherous bitch all the same. The Weald hanging hateful over us ain't natural no more, but we keep pushing through it all the same and just thank our lucky stars nothing's tried pickin' a fight with us yet. As we walk, the temperature starts to turn again – before I realize it's happened, it's gone from bitterly cold to disgustingly warm and humid. Just the right compliment to the stench of the fungus and mold clinging to our noses. Soon enough, the dirt beneath our feet's turned to mud, too, and we find ourselves in a swamp.

It's a lot like the mess we had to drag the cannon through yesterday – maybe a little gloomier though. There are some open spaces in the canopy letting in a bit of light, but it's still dim and hard to see. Most of the plants are yellowed with the fungus blight, and the entire place is just brown muck broken up by occasional boulders, the odd tree, and choked thickets of scrub.

"This shit again," Guy says disgustedly.

"Least we ain't pulling the cannon this time," I reply.

"Guess that's true."

"Look on the bright side," says Bressac. "Any idiot can follow their trail now."

Sure enough, there are a bunch of obvious footprints in the mud, wherever it's shallow. Guy's torch has burned low, so I light a new one – our third so far – off his, then we abandon bein' quiet and start moving as fast as we can. They're gonna be slowed down getting through this, and it's the best chance we'll get to overtake 'em. It pays off, because after a couple of minutes, we come round a small, wooded island in the mud to find our quarry.

Both are visibly exhausted, though that ain't much of a surprise. They're spattered head to foot with mud and dirt, and all scraped and slashed up from battle and brambles. Blondie's coat is so filthy it's gone from blue to brown, and her hair is pasted loosely to her scalp with sweat. Hellion's still caked with dried blood from yesterday's fight, and her war paint's started to run with sweat, congealing with the blood to streak her face brown an' blue down to the neck. But her eyes are still full of fire.

They must've heard us round the corner, cause they've got their weapons up and look ready to go down fighting. So we slow down as we approach rather than charging right in, and all of us take a moment to size one another up. Blondie's got a knife out in one hand, poised to throw, and a torch in the other. Bressac's got his rifle out, but neither of them seems to want to dare the first shot. I got the torch in my left, a knife in my right, and a spare blade in a sheath. Guy's got his scourge, and a pistol tucked in his belt. Hellion's got her glaive, and her voice.

The Hellion meets my eyes, and her face curls into the familiar sneer.

"You again?"

"We just keep runnin' into one another," I grin. "But this time I ain't alone."

"You weren't alone the other two times, either," she taunts. "I like my odds."

"Bitch," I snarl.

"The fuck? You two've met?" asks Bressac. I notice him trying to draw a bead on Blondie while I've got their attention, and I step to the right a little so I don't get hit when he fires.

"Ha! He almost wet himself running from me," she responds. "Twice, in fact. Didn't think you'd have the guts to follow us again."

"Ain't you we're after," says Guy. "Give up, and we'll go easy on you."

"A pair of you tried to 'go easy on me' yesterday," spits Blondie. "I'll take my chances."

"You'll die for a piece of treasure, huh?" I smirk. "Not very smart."

The Hellion looks confused.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"There was a magical trinket in that carriage," I tell her. "What, you think we just knocked it over for laughs? Nothin' there when we looted what was left, so we know one of you got it. Just hand it over, and we'll let you go. This don't have to end in a fight."

Hellion glances momentarily at Blondie. "Is it true?" she asks.

"I…may have taken something with me when we crawled out of the wreck," admits Blondie after a moment's silence. I take a second to look back and grin at Guy and Bressac. I knew one of them had it, and Blondie was fool enough to give that fact away. Now all we have to do is get rid of the women, and we're golden.

It's at that exact moment our torches suddenly go out.