Possessing the Grimstone - By John Grover Page 0,49
long now.
The swamplands seemed a world unto itself, a surreal area secluded in natural walls of weeping trees and fungus-choked bogs.
The path in vanished into carpets of spider grass and briar patches. The ground grew soft and sponge-like. Day became night as the thick overgrowth barred the sunlight, only allowing the weakest shafts of light to peek through.
Some of the ponds bubbled, others reeked of decay. A lazy fog hung in some of the taller trees.
Seas of spotted mushrooms and crabgrass stretched to all corners. Deadfalls grew new skin in the form of emerald-colored moss and spider web tapestries.
Hemlock and nightshade painted a vivid but deadly canvas as smolder boulders were hosts to many varieties of lichen.
Pim twitched at the sight of snakes slithering into stagnant water. Shannara and her warriors were unmoved by the deep, all-encompassing swamps, but he could tell the horses were starting to get spooked.
The only sound Pim detected was the croaking of bloated frogs, and the sloshing of their own steps.
“This is it,” Tolan said. He halted his horse, and the others followed suit. “The animals can travel no more; the land grows treacherous. They are in danger of getting stuck. We will secure them here.”
“Nothing beats the legs Thet gave us,” Shannara said.
Pim and Tolan smiled at her at the same time. The Wivering eyed the warrior and rolled his eyes, focusing his attention back on his horse.
“Be wary of sink holes and pits,” Tolan said to everyone. “They will pull you under in the blink of an eye.”
“The adventure just keeps getting better,” Drith said through gritted teeth.
Instinct kicked in, and Pim drew his sword. His action led the rest of the group, and blades clinked among the croaking frogs.
They crept carefully, boots sinking, then yanking out of mud, hands swatting at biting insects, and eyes locked on the deep ahead.
“Where is this Mort A’ghas?” Pim asked to no one in particular.
“It is believed to be in the center of the swamplands,” Shannara answered. “But that is only rumor. It is said no living being has ever set foot in it.”
“No living thing?” Pim’s mind tried to reason out that question. He swallowed air, then let it out. It tasted strange. A foul smell scratched at his nose. “Then who goes there?”
“The dead.”
“The Lich Lord…” Pim stuttered. “Is he one of the dead?”
“The oldest of all the dead. The most powerful of them all. He either chooses not to ascend, or cannot. A dark magic surges inside of him, fusing his spirit to a corpse long forgotten. He is one of his kind, from an unknown race of mage. He uses spirit magic, and the dead still on Athora serve him. We can only pray that he will tell us what he knows.”
“If he has been on Athora as long as you say,” Pim continued, “Then he must know of the stone’s existence, and what became of it.”
“Aye, he would have gained the knowledge from the dead that came thousands of years before we were even formed.”
“And if he doesn’t tell us?” Tolan asked.
“We’ll just have to persuade him,” Shannara said.
The swamps grew even darker, and the ground beneath them, wetter. Filthy water seeped into their boots.
Pim had never seen a land that blocked out the sun the way the swamps did. He’d never seen something that was both beautiful and frightening at the same time. The marsh was both secretive and seductive. He felt its call, but heeded its repulsion.
He carried on, steadying his constitution, balancing fear with wonder, until a scream almost shattered him. He whirled around to see a sword plunge through a D’Elkyrie warrior. She coughed and slipped into the muck.
Behind her limp body, a dead knight appeared, rusted armor clinging to gobs of ravaged flesh, a rib cage exposed in a hollowed chest. It opened its mouth with a moan, and swamp water poured out.
Shannara belted out a war cry and raced toward her fallen comrade.
Pim stood, trembling, his sword wavering in his hand. Behind him, he heard the clop of footsteps in the mud.
###
The sound of drums filled the distance. Sooth-Malesh ran to the edge of the rampart, and saw them at last.
The first to appear were the standard bearers, waving their tattered black standards defiantly. In the center of the flags, he finally saw their symbol. He was stunned to see it was an image of the Grimstone itself, in its whole form. All three pieces were together, and a rune symbol decorated the center of