Shieldwolf Dawning (20 page)

But what was it called? The closest thing she could compare it to was the power of her staff. But this time, the tingling was stronger. It was magic and more.

Pilgrim's Bog

A thick layer of hot gas hung stifling in the air. Samarra coughed and covered her nose, but she couldn't block out the stench.
Left-right-left-right
, she repeated in her head as her unit marched in pairs through Pilgrim's Bog. They had been on their feet all morning and were heading for the swamplands to the west. When they reached their designated Shieldwolf camp, they would set up their equipment for the day's work task. The temperature had skyrocketed during the course of the morning and Samarra was uncomfortably hot in her armour. Although she was excited at the prospect of a new adventure, she was also anxious about being in the fields so far away from the safety of Shieldwolf Proper.

Rumours had spread through the biodome like wildfire. The battle on the northwest front had escalated. Although the Ikajarri had not taken control of the towers, they had come close on two hair-raising occasions. The Elders were worried; Samarra could see it in their body language. Shieldwolf losses had crept into the high hundreds, and with every fallen body came the threat of defeat. The Shieldwolves needed support on the field, and Shieldwolf Proper needed to meet the demand with production-line efficiency. New recruit training had intensified. Samarra was now living the reality of the Vision.

"This place stinks," someone said.

"I hope the smell doesn't stick to my armour," a swain chimed in. "I don't want to be gassy for the whole day."

"You should be used to it by now," came another voice.

Laughter erupted all around.

"Very funny." The banter continued. "You should talk. Your breath smells worse than this bog."

"Oh, really? Well—"

"Attention!" Shieldwolf Swiftwing called out when the unit reached their destination. The shaman leaned her staff against a tiny storage shed, dropped her backpack, and motioned for the swains to do the same. She immediately set to work building a campfire. Samarra watched the swains put their equipment in the shed and listened as they talked quietly amongst themselves.

"You could have chosen somewhere that smells better." Tavani buried her snout in the crook of her arm.

"Negative." Shieldwolf Swiftwing fanned the flames. "Our orders are to the bog."

"I wish we had our visors so we could block out the smell."

"Your visors are for combat. This is not a combat situation."

"So why are we in field armour?" Tavani whined.

"To grow accustomed to wearing your suit in a range of environmental conditions."

Tavani frowned and busied herself with her backpack.

"I feel weird about this place," Ryeno piped up. "What if something attacks us?"

Shieldwolf Swiftwing paused and gave him a look. "Nothing will attack you. The creatures in this area are not aggressive. Further west is where we might run into danger, but not here." Satisfied that she had built a strong enough fire, she stood up and rearranged some of the backpacks in a neater pile. "You all have until 1500 hours to farm the clearspores. Once your objective is accomplished, report to me. The smoke emanating from this fire will guide you back to camp should you get lost."

She marched to the edge of a large pool of bubbling brown water and scouted the area while the swains ate lunch. Upon her return to camp, she sat down next to Samarra. "If you find yourself on the borders of this bog and a tannin-stained blackwater river, turn back immediately. Swamp dogs like to burrow in river environments."

"What are swamp dogs?" a few swains asked in unison.

Shieldwolf Swiftwing was without expression. "Carnivorous predators."

A collective gasp of fear spread out across the camp.

"What do we do if one attacks us?" a swain named Mahdessian Firescale cried.

"We haven't had enough training to fight swamp dogs," Tavani complained. "They're ferocious. Grandfather told me all about them. Why are we here and not somewhere safer… and not as disgusting? I hate this place." Tavani looked like she wanted to say more, but she stopped herself when Shieldwolf Swiftwing glared at her.

"Enough of this nonsense," said the shaman. Samarra could tell that Shieldwolf Swiftwing was growing frustrated by her ruffled feathers. "Swamp dogs never venture into this side of the swamplands. You will be safe." She turned on her tablet and accessed a map of the area. The various pools in the area lit up in red. "Harvest as many clearspore flowers as you can fit into your herb pouches. We need as much as we can find."

"Aye," the group chorused.

"Greyfeather and Ril'mok, cover the northeastern zone."

Whistler nodded and Brin growled. They headed to the far corner of the bog, walking as far apart from each other as the narrow path would let them.

"Dawning and Sairfang cover the northwest expanse."

Samarra waited for her brother to adjust his armour before they headed out. "What's so great about clearspores?" Samarra trailed her fingers over the reeds lining the bog.

"They're used for boosters." Cassian climbed over a fallen tree stump that blocked their way forward; fluorescent green mushrooms grew sporadically from the slippery carpet of moss and bark. "I overheard Irik talking about them this morning. The herbalists have been mixing different chemicals with clearspores to make a booster for walking through walls." He held out his hand and helped Samarra over the stump. "Vapour form, I think it's called. They're still running tests because it only lasts for two minutes at a time." Cassian pulled out his tablet, checked his compass, and continued west. As they went deeper into the bog, the temperature rose and so did the unbearable stench of bog water. It wasn't long before Samarra and Cassian reached their destination.

"That's disgusting." Samarra pointed her staff at the raised bog. "Are you sure we have to go in?"

"Positive." Cassian walked around the perimeter of the bog pond and pushed his staff into the muddy bank to find a spot where they could enter safely. "Over here." He motioned for Samarra to join him. "This is the safest place to go in."

"So go in then," she said.

"I'm not going in." Cassian shook his head. "You're going in. I'll keep watch."

"Are you kidding me?" Samarra grumbled. "I can't swim as well as you can."

Cassian held his ground. "The water is only waist deep. You're not going to drown."

"I refuse to go in." Samarra crossed her arms stubbornly. "We'll have to toss a coin for it. That's fair."

"I don't have a coin," he said.

"Neither do I, but I do have a moonstone shell I found in the mess hall the other day."

Cassian eyed her suspiciously, but he finally agreed. When Samarra took out the small shell from her pocket, he grabbed it and inspected it closely to check for anything strange. Satisfied the shell was good, he handed it back to his sister.

"Ribbed side, you go in." Samarra readied the shell. "Smooth side, I go in. All right?"

Cassian nodded.

Samarra flicked the shell high into the air and caught it on its way down.

"Smooth side," she announced glumly. She handed her staff to her brother, removed her armour and boots, rolled up her pants, and waded into the murky water. Something furry brushed past her leg. Samarra screamed.

"Stop wasting time." Cassian frowned.

"There's something in here." The hot squishiness of mud between her toes made her feel sick.

"Don't worry. It's probably a fish or an eel."

"Fish don't have fur."

"Just hurry up."

"Why don't you come in and then tell me how easy it is?"

"I'm wearing armour, you're not. It makes sense for you to stay in there. Don't be lazy."

Samarra sulked all the way around the pond until she found a patch of clearspores. The fragile white flowers were difficult to spot at first, but once she figured out they grew around mossy rocks, she could find them easily. When the furry thing brushed past her other leg, she waved at her brother frantically to catch his attention and almost lost her footing. He was either ignoring her or deeply fascinated by something on the ground.

"Cass, come help me," she hollered.

He laughed in response.

"I hope you fall in." She waved her fists at him. "Then you'd know what it feels like to be waist-deep in stinking bog water."

That made Cassian laugh even harder. "Hurry up. We don't have all day."

"Hmph!" Samarra went back to her grumbling and collected as many clearspores as she could find. When she could fit no more into her herb pouch, she headed back to her brother.

"That was gross." She wiped the scum off her pants. The stench of rotten eggs clung to her like a second skin. She gave the pouch of clearspores to Cassian and put on her armour.

Cassian pinched his nose. "You smell a bit off."

Samarra glared at him and went back to lacing up her boots.

The quiet of the bog was broken with desperate screams. Cassian wasted no time racing back to camp.

"Wait!" Samarra grabbed her things and ran after him.

Whistler and several other swains were standing around the main bog and poking fun at Tavani, who had fallen into the water. Tavani had snagged the back of her chestpiece on a swamp tree branch. Her arms and legs flailed wildly.

"She looks like a spotty green octopus," Samarra observed, trying not to laugh out loud.

"We should help her."

"No way." Samarra grabbed his arm. "I want to see what happens to her."

"Don't be mean. Imagine if that was you… you'd want someone to help." Cassian jumped onto a fallen tree trunk and walked along its slippery length until he reached Tavani.

"Cass," Samarra called out when she noticed a wet, furry animal shambling into the open, but her brother seemed not to hear her. The swamp dog's red eyes scanned its surroundings. Its laboured grunt grew desperate when it spotted Cassian.

"Cass!" she screamed when the animal got down low and crept along the ground on all fours. White foam dripped from its mangy snout.

Samarra felt like time slowed down. When the swamp dog twitched its bushy tail and readied itself for attack, she froze, unable to say and do a thing.

"Cassian, behind you!" Brin roared.

"Watch out for the swamp dog!" a group of swains shouted.

Samarra snapped to her senses and rushed toward her brother, but she stopped mid-track in surprise. With a brilliant display of agility, Cassian sprang to his feet and swung his staff into the swamp dog's side. The animal went barreling into a tree with a loud
thud
. Scrambling to its feet, the creature bared its razor sharp teeth with a rabid growl and lunged. Cassian brought down his staff onto the swamp dog's neck with a bone-breaking
whack
. His movements were quick and precise.

Samarra watched in amazement when the swamp dog collapsed. Cassian held out his staff, ready for another attack. He looked calm and sure of himself. Holding its head at an awkward angle, the swamp dog struggled to its feet. It howled a haunting farewell to the world moments before it keeled over and died.

Cassian prodded the creature to make sure it had passed on before he turned his back on it. He reached down to unhook Tavani and helped her out of the water. The swains cheered him on his way back to camp. Tavani gushed out her thanks to him over and over again. Samarra watched her brother in silence. When had he learned how to do that?

Shieldwolf Swiftwing appeared at his side, but there was another disruption to come. Whistler alerted the swains with a series of ringing notes. "Ten swamp dogs incoming."

"But how?" Confused, Shieldwolf Swiftwing hesitated for a moment.

Whistler launched himself into the air.

"Arm yourselves," Shieldwolf Swiftwing ordered. "Greyfeather, get down from the sky."

Samarra fumbled around nervously for her staff. Panicked, she recited the words of power Shieldwolf Longmane had taught her. "This is my staff; with it I am powerful." Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. She had no idea what to expect.

"Attack!"
Shieldwolf Swiftwing yelled, and Samarra was carried along with the rest of the swains on their charge toward the swamp dogs. Whistler launched himself higher into the air and plunged back down to the ground with incredible speed.

"Get out of my way, Samarra," he called.

Samarra leaped to the side. Whistler zoomed past and swung his staff at the ferocious creature that had launched itself at Samarra's back, knocking it out.

"Thank you," Samarra said, gasping for air. Swains all around her fought off the swamp dogs. She raced to Cassian, who was fighting two rabid animals. He spun around and struck one of the swamp dogs in the head. The creature pummeled into Samarra, and she stumbled and fell. She heard a grunt in the air and something lashed her cheeks. Out of nowhere, a swamp dog leaped onto her and clamped down on her arm with its powerful jaws.

Sharp claws ripped through her gloves and cut her hands and legs. She screamed in pain, struggling to free herself from the swamp dog's crushing weight. She grabbed a tuft of wet fur and pulled, but the creature would not let her go. It spat foam into her eyes and she cried out, unable to see a thing.

The next thing she knew, the weight was hauled off her. She sat up shakily and wiped the foam from her eyes. Tavani stood above her. The platophibian lifted Samarra into her arms and took her back to camp. Without a word, Tavani raced back to Brin, who was fighting the last swamp dog. With a swing of her staff, she took down the last creature with finesse.