Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [15]
Still, as I drew nearer the Vast Swamp, my mind was filled with the tales of haunts and phantoms and geists, let alone the monsters that I was positive really did live in the swamp. I tried to imagine once more that I was the brave and gallant Camber Fosrick, who would laugh at ghosts and snicker at specters.
But by the time I arrived at the fork in the road and turned left toward Benelaius's abode, I was, I confess it, aquiver with nervousness. I tried to avert my glance from the swamp now on my right, but my gaze kept moving there. The moon provided but little light, and I thought that a mercy as I rode on. Jenkus sensed my nervousness, for he was a mite skittish himself, and I kept a firm grasp on his reins.
Then, at a spot where the road curved to bring my path close to the treacherous Vast Swamp, I heard a dull moan, like the voice of a man with his head in a well. It came from the direction of the swamp, and although I told myself to ride on and not to look, of course my head shifted until I was gazing through ribbons of mist. Not twenty yards ahead, so close to the road that it could have reached out and touched me as I passed, I saw what could only be Fastred's ghost
Naturally I didn't pass. I retained enough presence of mind to haul back manfully on the reins, but Jenkus had anticipated me. Already he had stopped and was backing away from the apparition, and I didn't blame him one bit.
At the sight of the ghost's green and glowing face glaring at me from within an antique helm, my blood had turned to ice in my veins, my stomach felt as though a ten-pound weight of frozen lead had been dropped into it, and my throat felt thick with lard. I couldn't swallow, couldn't speak or even squeak. I have never been so completely terrified.
And when the axe came up, its blade catching the faint rays of moonlight that filtered down through the mist, it got worse.
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Both Jenkus and I panicked. He reared as I pulled back on the reins so hard we almost toppled over. We wheeled around as though man and horse were one, and dashed as fast as Jenkus could run in the opposite direction. Neither one of us cared where we went, just so long as it was away from that dreadful apparition. We fairly flew down the swamp road, a quite dangerous stunt in the darkness.
But by the time we came to the fork again, I had calmed enough to think about getting to the first place of habitation I could find, and that was among the farmers on the swamp road to the southwest, rather than take the longer journey into Ghars. So I yanked the reins to the left and down the road we went.
The first farmhouse was a scant quarter mile from the fork, and I pulled Jenkus to a stop by its door, swung off, and hailed the folk within. To them, a fat farmer and his fatter wife, I told the story of what I had seen.
The farmer then told me that was quite a tale, and asked what, besides the hot tea and cake they had already given me, they could do about it. I realized that there was nothing. If we returned with a force of farmers, the ghost would probably be nowhere to be seen, even if the farmers were brave enough to go, which I doubted.
They offered to let me spend the night, but when I thought about it, I decided to brave the ghost again. After all, he had not been able to catch me, and if I saw him I could simply ride away. Besides, there was a bit of laughter in the eyes of the farmer and his wife, and I believe they thought me a hysterical chap who had had one too many at the tavern.
So I thanked them, and rode back toward the place of the haunting. Jenkus was not anxious to take the road toward my master's cottage, but I was able to turn his head, and on we rode.
It was well after midnight by now, and I hoped that whatever Fastred had had to do out there he had done and returned to his ghostly home. But my fears