A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [135]
“This could be early morning or late evening,” Rachel observed.
“The light is in the east,” Jasher said. “I feel rested, and my throat feels better.”
“So it’s morning,” Jason said.
“Do you remember anything?” Rachel asked.
Jasher squinted. “Not a thing. Do you feel dizzy?”
“A little woozy,” Jason agreed. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
They walked around the tree and along the narrow length of the island toward the far tip where the boat lay. Jasher stopped short, raising a hand to halt the other two. A large, amorphous shape shifted ahead in the dimness.
They stood motionless, breathing softly, Jasher’s hand on the hilt of his sword, Jason reaching for his knife. Up ahead something else moved. “Frogs,” Jasher whispered. “A small army.”
They held still, letting their eyes adjust. Soon Jason could make out at least a dozen gigantic frogs surrounding the skiff. Their skin blended with the mud. A few were bigger than any they had yet encountered: huge muddy boulders, almost elephantine in size. “They know we need the boat,” Jasher murmured in disbelief.
“At least they didn’t think to sink it,” Rachel whispered.
“Don’t give them any ideas,” Jason worried.
“The puffballs probably saved the skiff,” Jasher guessed. “Although the frogs surround it, none are too close. Looks like the frogs I slew yesterday are gone.”
“Cannibals,” Jason muttered. “What now?”
Jasher motioned for them to lean in closer. “All else failing, we retreat to the tree. I have one more orantium globe. A good blast should destroy a frog or two and might disperse the others. There is no chance we will overpower them by the might of our blades alone.”
“Especially since mine is hardly big enough to lance their warts,” Jason said.
“I’ll want a little more light before we move,” Jasher said.
They stood in silence. The frogs made no noise and no aggressive movements. Occasionally one or two would shift position. The nearest stared at them unblinkingly. The light increased. Jasher got out his orantium globe.
“Wait,” Rachel whispered. “Why don’t we try throwing mushrooms? If the puffballs kept them out of the boat, they might drive them away.”
Jasher grinned. “At least one of us is thinking. Back to the tree. No sudden movements.”
Slowly and quietly they returned to the tree and collected several puffballs each, taking care not to squeeze them. Once within throwing distance of the congregation of immense frogs, they began lobbing puffballs into their midst. The mushrooms soared in high trajectories before landing in faint bursts of yellow-brown dust.
As the first three landed, the frogs sprang for the water, colliding with one another in their panicked haste. Only six puffballs were thrown before Jason and his companions stopped to watch the last of the monstrous amphibians scrambling and splashing into the murky water.
Still bearing several puffballs each, Jason, Rachel, and Jasher raced to the skiff. Near the small craft Jason felt hazy. He remembered Corinne, and he realized that the puffballs had masked his memories again. Jasher and Rachel appeared confused.
“Move the mushrooms to the front of the boat,” Jason advised. “It doesn’t really matter whether Rachel and I have our memories. Jasher, try covering your nose and mouth.”
They moved the mushrooms. Jasher took a sash from his robes and wound it around the bottom half of his face.
“I’m back,” Jasher said. “I take it the mushrooms were flummoxing us.”
“We’ll keep them at the front of the boat,” Jason said.
The three of them shoved the skiff into the water. After Rachel and Jason climbed to the front, Jasher launched them.
“Keep watch,” Jasher said, his voice muffled by his sash. “I intend to make use of these mushrooms. We’re going to sacrifice stealth for speed. I want out of this swamp before nightfall.”
“We’ll keep watch,” Rachel assured him.
“Anything specific we’re looking for?” Jason asked.
Jasher told them about the slime. “I forget that you two don’t have your memories.”
“Not many, at least,” Jason replied. “Which reminds me: Corinne asked us to let her know if