Snod
Legacy Name: Snod

I am Jessica of the House of Raven Ridge and the bards have created songs about my accomplishments, despite my protests.

I am a warrior of some prowess and that is all I will ever claim to be. We did not seek fame when I gathered my band to retrieve the Girdle of Intangibility. We slayed the Acorian Dragon and overcame the Seven Trials for the love of our Queen, the Fair Lady who can unite Houses shattered by centuries of blood feud. She rules with a soft voice that can lull a child to sleep or cut a mouthy aristocrat to ribbons, all with a few subtle words.

I fall to one knee before the Ivory Throne, frozen in place until she softly bids me to rise. My trio of warriors rises with me though they do not raise their eyes to the throne as Queen Kaylin begins to speak.

"Well you know the legends of the Artifacts of Power, for you are the only band to succeed in retrieving one, despite the perils that nearly cost your lives. I must ask great sacrifice of you all, for there is great danger coming to my queendom. The Sorcerer of Nenthion has located the Sword of Annihilation and he will not be satisfied with all the gold and precious gems in our treasury. The only price he will accept is blood of babes and warriors alike."

Her pale hands smooth a crumpled page, an illustration of some jewel that is wrought in the old fashion. Such intricate designs are impossible with the crude tools known to our blacksmiths. Another Artifact, then.

"I must ask you to enter the Swamps of Kavelos and seek out the Amulet of Protection. It is the only Artifact left in the world with enough power to counteract the soul-splitting power of the Sorcerer's Sword."

Even the smallest child knows that the Swamp of Kavelos is the home of the mysterious Flask Witch. There are probably more rumors about her powers than powers she actually possesses. She can fly among the tiny insects, benefiting from the blood they suck. She can make a massive tree vanish from one location to reappear in another. Some even say she breaks off pieces of her spirit to wedge in hollow trees, allowing her to see and hear every creature that enters her borders.

This is the kind of challenge we live for. I know our answer without having to ask my warriors their opinions on the matter. We all bow our heads to accept the Queen's blessing.

Golden stalks of wheat give way to emerald hills separated by short stone walls. Sheep crop the rich grass, ignoring our passage. The only sounds to break the stillness are the caws of the crows in the wheat and the occasional bleat.

Theo is at my side as we cross the long stretches of farming land. He is the oldest member of our band, the one I can rely on to join me for a bout before dawn and to see to it we never want bread.

"We can make Whitestone before the setting of the sun. It will be the last reliable post to trade for supplies. I want you all focused on building your marsh kits and seeing to it you've enough fire starters for a damp climate. I don't want a repeat of what happened in Mist Marsh." Theo gives Snod a hard look, earning an eye roll in return.

Snod may have no memory of the delirium that forced us to carry him for three days when he picked up Mist Leeches but the rest of us aren't likely to forget. He mistook Theo for someone named Valerie and did his best to plant a kiss.

Dexter meets my eyes, offering the slanted smile that I return without thought. He is the last member of our band to attract the notice of those lords whose halls we visit. He does not have broad shoulders to bear a massive blade, nor can his soft voice chill the blood of enemies with a war cry, but only a fool would call him weak. He once put an arrow in the heart of a charging boar, dropping it so near the child it sought to kill that the boy was able to reach out a hand and touch the curved tusk.

I have seen those fine-boned hands weave a garland of flowers to grace the brow of a maiden. I laughed aside his attempt to crown me with such foolery but he could see the love-longing in my eyes when I settled the wreath around his neck and stole a kiss. He does not look at me as a prize to be vanquished or as a goddess out of reach. His hands are warm and strong when he touches me. I hope to never grow tired of his touch.

Theo knows nothing of our night meetings. He has forgotten I am a woman, or perhaps he never noticed. As for Snod...

"Hey, Dexter. Maybe you ought to give Theo here a few lessons in sword play." Snod makes a rude gesture, turning to me with a few lip smacks.

I lay a hand on the pommel of my sword. Snod takes no notice, batting his eyelashes at me.

"Maybe sometime you can get Jess to show you her jewel collection."

Dexter and I share a hearty laugh when Snod's inattention lands him in a great pool of mud. Even Theo cracks a brief smile. True to his nature, Snod looks himself up and down and laughs harder than all of us.

"I'll have the skin of a newborn dragon inside of an hour. The women of Whitestone won't be able to resist me!"

The inn at Whitestone is nearly filled to capacity. I gather from a friendly blacksmith that they are journeymen looking to sell their wares in a local fair.

The ale is pleasing to the tongue and the music thrums at my bones as I exchange leather-faced partners for lads in worn breeches. I catch Dexter's eye from across the room. The longing there is enough to exhaust my patience for dancing. I extract myself from the circle and slip out a side entry intended for servants, knowing he will see my departure...and follow.

He finds me in the common stable, caressing the neck of a fine white mare. I cannot tell you the quality of the beds in that inn, but I can tell you that no horse in Whitestone wants for good hay.

We all have our ideas of what to do with the treasure when our task is complete. As the golden days of summer bow to the first cold rains of autumn and the Swamp of Kavelos comes in sight, our casual talk over goblin-forged steel and castles in the countryside becomes a more heated debate.

"I won't deny that Dwarven Silver is high quality, but you will never convince me that it can withstand a blow from one of the forgings of the Goblins of Volkana." Theo admires his own goblin-cast dagger as he speaks.

It is an argument Theo and I have debated many times, one we will never tire of raising. "There's a reason it took the dwarves longer than the goblins to die out, Theo."

"They had better underground quarters. You're a skilled warrior, Jessica, but sometimes you let your woman's voice silence more practical voices. Just because a sword is of greater beauty does not give it greater function. The Ballad of the Six Brothers clearly tells how the dwarven blade Branagh was cleaved by the goblin-forged Grimmen."

"Giana of Bleak Bluff disproved that story with her discovery of the crystal-backed stones. Their surfaces are carved with runes that detail another battle where Branagh was seen by at least seven reliable witnesses. Because it was a woman's discovery, you would cast it aside."

Dexter clears his throat. "Our Queen is eager to find those who would claim good land. I will take such a plot with my portion. With this quest completed, we will have more riches than anyone, saving Her Highness. We do not need another haul and I intend to claim a place that will serve my sons and their sons to follow so that they never need fight for their meat and grain."

Theo snorts. "Our kind are warriors, not farmers. You'd come to miss the weight of a bow in your hand and before you know it, you'd be so fat on grain bread that you wouldn't be able to lift a blade."

I wait until Theo's head is turned to offer Dexter a small smile. While I also have no desire to hang up my blade and shield, I know that he speaks for our future and I love him for it.

There is a gloom that hangs over Kavelos, one that seems to pour from the sickly limbs of the trees to pool at their roots. Pools of stagnant liquid range in size from the width of a palm to great lakes that stretch for half a mile. Not even this foul place can dampen Snod's mood.

He smacks his lips and wraps his arms around his torso. "No haystacks around, but why don't you two have a nice, refreshing roll in the mud?"

I offer him a look that warns he will get another mud bath if he continues to taunt me. "Shut up, Snod."

Theo purses his lips as he pulls a boot free of the muck that clings to our feet with each step. "I still say goblin-forged steel has no rival."

I merely shake my head, pausing as Dexter lays a hand on my arm.

"Did you hear that?"

A few soft plops draw my gaze to a pond sprinkled with green scum. A tiny frog with red stripes leaps from the water to capture a dragonfly. Snod blows up his cheeks like a bullfrog, grinning when a second frog darts out of the reeds and takes to the water.

"Hey Dex, you planning to do a little spawning of your own when Theo's out doing swamp reed border patrol?"

"Shut up, Snod." Dexter's voice mingles with mine.

Theo shushes us all at the cry of a bird overhead. "You will bring every protective spell the witch possesses down on us. Shut up and keep moving. We've got to find a dry spot to camp before what sorry light we have is taken by the night."

Nobody has ever attempted to map the Swamps of Kavelos for good reason. Every night we would mark some particular pattern in the branches overhead or some boulder formed in a peculiar shape and every morning when we woke, the scenery would be completely changed.

The overall dreary brown landscape with hanging vines and sickly yellow light never changes but a rock that looked like a crouching rabbit when we bed down will take on the form of an eagle and shift three feet to the left of where the latrine had been dug. Tree branches seem to spring from the earth to make us stumble and curse.

Whatever her other faults, the witch certainly has a wicked sense of humor.

Dexter is the one to spot half-submerged log poking out of the murky expanse of water. I place a booted foot on the surface, testing my weight against the soil holding it in place. I will not be rolled into the muck to sleep in wet clothes. The log does not move an inch, not even when I risk my full weight. The moss on the surface is not even slippery. I trot the length, pausing at the other side to await my companions.

Dexter crosses with ease. Theo is next, his greater weight causing the wood to creak a bit. We turn to survey our next crossing as Snod mounts the mossy bridge.

We thought it was fallen tree trunk. Then it ate Snod.

We turn back at a sharp crackling that is alarmingly loud in the stillness of the swamp. Snod didn't even have time to scream. His legs dangle out the side of the creature's mouth as the upper half is reduced to a bloody pulp.

Theo charges forward with a war cry, his blade scoring a flake of bark-like skin before a hand with the force of all the winds of the world crushes his skull.

Seeing Dexter frozen in place so near that creature is what thaws my own voice. I take in as much air as my body can hold to work up a good scream.

"DEXTER! RUN!"

He half-turns at the sound of my voice. His lips part but he does not have time to speak. The monster is in the air, some horrible combination of bird, tree, and beast that lands heavily. Its rough hide makes a hideous grinding crunch as it comes down precisely on top of the man I love.

My warriors are dead and my blade is useless. The monster's jaw is inches away from my face and all I can think is that we have failed.

Strings of green saliva drip down on my bare shoulder, burning where they touch. There are bits of flesh on the beast's tongue and I can make out the shape of Snod's finger bone wedged between two jagged teeth as the creature lifts its massive head for one last strike.

If you venture through the Swamp of Kavelos, know that three words etched in goblin ruins serve as both a token of mourning and a warning to those that value their lives...