A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [126]
“I hoped to find some of these orchids before proceeding much farther,” Jasher said. He plucked a closed bud from a stem and squeezed the tightly sealed petals. Blue gel oozed out. Jasher licked it. “The results are not entirely pleasant, but this nectar will keep most of the biting and stinging insects at a distance.”
Jason ripped off a bud and ate the gel. It had almost no taste. Rachel tried some as well. Jasher plucked a few extra buds.
Not long after leaving that pool, Jasher found a section of higher ground covered in leafy ivy. They dined on gutplug and dried meat.
“We are at the threshold of the Sunken Lands,” Jasher said as he bedded down. Jason and Rachel lay at either side of him on their backs, the ivy adding some cushion beneath their blankets. “Tomorrow you will see the actual swamp. The depths of the swamp cannot be negotiated without a watercraft. Fortunately, my people forage sporadically in the swamp to gather rare herbs and fungi. I believe I can guide us to a hidden skiff.”
“What kind of animals live here?” Rachel asked. Her tone suggested she dreaded the answer, but couldn’t resist asking.
“Our concern tonight will be serpents,” Jasher said. “Should you feel a scaly visitor coiling against you in the night, keep still. Most snakes will not strike a person unless provoked. Be thankful the night is warm. On cold nights serpents are drawn to people for warmth. I once awoke with a black-ringed water prowler curled against my chest, inside my robes. Are you familiar with the species?”
“No,” Rachel said, a quaver in her voice.
“The black-ringed water prowler is among the most poisonous of serpents. Its venom will claim the life of a strong man before he takes twenty breaths. The pain is instant and unbearable.”
Jason leaned up on one elbow. “What did you do?”
“After I gingerly peered down my robes and observed the markings of the dread snake, I lay still and dreamless the remainder of the night, perspiring despite the chill air. I may live again after I die, but there is no guarantee my seed will be planted, and occasionally an amar is defective. Even under the best circumstances death can be highly inconvenient. In the morning the serpent stirred. It exited my robes past my neck, slithering against my cheek, as if daring me to flinch or cry out. Then it was gone.”
“Are you trying to make me crazy?” Rachel asked. “Why would you tell a story like that on a night like this?”
“As a warning,” Jasher said.
“More like psychological warfare,” Rachel muttered.
“I hear the snakes like girls best,” Jason teased. “Rachel can be our snake magnet.”
“I’m walking back to Trensicourt,” Rachel declared.
“You should sleep in the middle,” Jasher offered. “It will offer some protection.”
Rachel gratefully traded places with him.
Jason eyed the surrounding ivy. He rested his head on his arms. Every rustling sound in the night set his nerves on edge. It was a long while before sleep overtook him.
Jason wakened in the morning to an awful stench. He sat up, sniffing the rank air with sleepy disgust. A low fog hung over the marshland, fuming up from the surrounding pools.
Rachel remained asleep. Jasher lay with his eyes half open, crystal blue irises shifting eerily from side to side.
Jason put his nose near his wrist, and the unsavory stink was stronger. Sniffing at himself, he found that his entire body smelled putrid, his armpits unbearable, as if his natural body odor had been grotesquely magnified. Wasn’t his own stench only supposed to bother other people?
Leaning over Rachel, Jason found she reeked even worse than he did. Leaning farther, he could smell Jasher as well.
Jasher fully opened his eyes. “The pungent odors of swamp travel,” he said, sitting up and stretching.
“Ugh,” Rachel griped, propping herself up, bleary-eyed. “What died?”
“We did,” Jason said.
She sniffed her shoulder and made a revolted face. “That’s us? What happened?”
“Think about it,” Jasher said.
Jason shot Jasher a hard look. “The