“I think we're almost there,” Syndel says, though her words are unnecessary. I can already smell the putrid stench of stagnant water mingled with constant decay. I don't know how I'll endure the swamp once we're inside it.

Soon we're meandering around great puddles of brown water. The damp air sticks to our skin and clothes like the mud clinging to our shoes. I hate everything about this place. Hetty whines the most. Flies the size of acorns buzz around her head, biting when they get the chance.

The mare rears back as another fly nips at her skin.

“The only thing I can think of is to slather mud all over you,” I say, rubbing the new bite with my thumb. Her head bobs a few times, which I take as consent. Stooping down, I gather handfuls of thick wet goop and spread it over her coat. Syndel helps as well. The mare is soon unrecognizable, but at least the flies leave her be.

“Cress,” Syndel says as she washes the mud from her hands, “I need to ask you something.”

I stiffen. I haven't given her many details about what happened after I gave her the doll. If she asks about it, I don't know what I'll tell her. “What is it?”

“There's something I need to do once we get to Heldra. Will you let me go on alone while you search for Bronek?”

This catches me off guard. Let her out of my sight in a city full of Noble-lords? If I say no, which is what I want to say, I'd be no better than the slavers she escaped from. “I don't like the idea,” I say honestly, “but I will not stand in your way.”

She gives me a strange look, as if my answer is not what she expected. “Thank you.”

We move deeper inside the swamp. The spaces of dry land become narrower, forcing us to walk single file. I lead, with Syndel behind me giving directions and Hetty at the rear. My senses are bombarded with strangeness. I breathe through my mouth to avoid most of the stench, which means I cannot use my nose to detect anything that might be lurking nearby. The echoing croaks and screeches from the nearby animals impede my ears. The dim landscape blends with itself, making it hard to maintain an accurate course. Yet, I see shadows that seem to creep in the distance.

“Do you sense anyone?” I ask Syndel in a whisper.

“No, but the animals are wary. And it's not because of you.”

I want to turn back. Not being able to use my senses to find danger is in every way the perfect trap. But a trap set by whom? I open my mouth to convey my worries when I see a figure appear on the path just ahead. It has no aura.

“Syndel,” I hiss, “get on Hetty and go back the way we came.”

She peers over my shoulder, letting out a gasp. “Cress . . .”

“GO!” I shout, turning back to the lone Soulless, ready to rip it apart.

Only now it's not alone. Two more have joined it. I whirl around. Four others are positioned on the path behind us. Syndel cannot escape. I grab her arm and pull her close. “Whatever happens,” I say, looking into her eyes, “don't let go of me.”

I swing her onto my back. “Hetty,” I say without looking at her, “follow if you can.”

I run, leaping over bogs and bushes, slamming into Soulless who are taken by surprise by our sudden flight. Syndel clings to me, her fingernails digging into my tunic. I hear growls of anger and thudding footsteps of pursuit behind us. They are driven by mad hunger, drawn to the power of Syndel's aura. I know it well. It drives me as well, but not in the same way.

The path takes a sudden drop. I whip Syndel around and slide on my backside, coming to a stop at the edge of a deep pool. The stench of decay rolls over me. Staggering, I set Syndel on her feet and then double over to retch on the bank.

“Cress, they're coming!” Syndel says, grabbing my hand. She pulls me away from the hill where the Soulless are amassing. They charge down the slope, their red eyes blazing. I gag on the putrid air, unable to find my footing. I stumble in the mud, sinking to my hands and knees. Syndel pleads for me to keep moving, pulling on my arm in vain. The Soulless will be upon us at any moment, and I won't be able to stop them. My hands clasp hers, bringing her down to the mud with me. Our eyes lock. There's so much I need to tell her.

The world explodes in a flash of white light.

I'm sprawled on the ground, a strange buzzing in my ears. Spots of light twinkle before my eyes like stars in the night sky. There's movement around me, the squelch of footsteps in the mud. And voices.

“They're all unconscious, sir. The wagon will be full this time.”

“Good. Bring the girl to my horse.”

A figure stands over me, nudging me with his boot. “This one's alive.”

“A Soulless?”

“No, though his aura is faint.”

“Leave him.”

The figure moves away. I try to get up, but my body refuses to obey. Who are these men? What happened to all the Soulless? Where's Syndel? One of the men said something about a girl. They've taken her. My insides scream with rage, desperate to move, but nothing happens. Whatever they did to knock out the Soulless is working against me as well, though I'm not unconscious. The pendant must have prevented the worst. I switch my focus to the warmth of the jeweled amber resting on my chest, pleading for it to free me.

I feel something, though it moves slowly, working through each muscle one at a time. Impatience gnaws at me, urging the process to make haste. It pays no heed. Night falls by the time I'm able to clench my hand into a fist and lift my head off the mud. I push myself up and look at my dark surroundings.

Something lurks nearby—a large shadow watching from behind a clump of rocks. “Hetty?” I call out.

The mare whinnies in response, trotting over until her nose bumps against my shoulder. Her warm breath blows my hair back. “They took her, Hetty,” I whisper. “She's gone.”

The men, most likely Noble-lords, must have taken her to Heldra. I squeeze my eyes shut, wondering if they were the same men who have been pursuing us. Do they know who she is or has her disguise fooled them? I can only hope. I get to my feet, patting the mare's neck. “Even if I find a way into the city, I don't think I can do this on my own.”

I reach into my pocket, glad to find the golden orb nestled at the bottom. I roll it around in my hand a few times before turning to the pile of rocks where Hetty had been hiding. I throw the orb against them with a loud crack. “Garreg,” I say loudly, “I need your help.”

The rocks begin to shift and undulate, melding together to form a small body. His golden eyes, now restored, blink at me. “Sooner than I expected,” Garreg says, brushing extra bits of dust from his vest and breeches. “Have you lost her already?”

I glare at him, in no mood for such levity. “We were ambushed by Soulless. Then Noble-lords came. They did something to immobilize the Soulless. They took the creatures and Syndel to Heldra. I don't know the way.”

Garreg folds his arms across his chest. “I can show you. Once you get there, what then?”

I've considered reducing the entire city to rubble until I find her, but that will most likely lead to my capture and mindless enslavement. “I'll make my way through the Noble-lords' stronghold, pretending to be one of them.”

“I see,” Garreg says. “Forgive me, Crescent Moon the Soulless, but you don't look like a man from a wealthy family. And even if you did, I doubt you could act the part.”

“Do you have a better idea?” I growl.

Garreg smiles. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

His body quivers, expanding to my size. His stone flesh changes colors and textures, resembling real skin. A fine set of garments wraps around his new body. Thick dark hair sprouts from his head and his golden eyes darken to a hazel-green, settling themselves beneath thick brows. “I shall be the Noble-lord and you can be my servant.”

The little wretch is toying with me. “How will that help me get Syndel? Servants can't just roam wherever they please.”

“Ah, but you're wrong. Those in the upper classes, such as Noble-lords, take no notice of servants. It's beneath them to even acknowledge someone who is so far below their status. That will give you an opportunity to move about and eavesdrop. If you're found in a place where you don't belong, I will make up some excuse. What do you say?”

I still think he's playing a game where he gets to make up all the rules, but I see no other way. “If this doesn't work, I'll fulfill the promise I made when we met and break you into tiny pieces.”

“If it doesn't work, I just might let you. Now let's get going. You'll need some cleaning up before we make our presence known.”

He turns to his left and starts walking through the murky swamp, humming a merry tune as if this is the grandest day of his life. Glaring after him, I call to Hetty and we trail behind.

***

A small boat, hidden among the lakeside reeds, takes us across the blue water, with Hetty swimming beside us. I paddle to the wall surrounding the city, finding a patch of ground large enough for us to disembark. I look up and down the length of the wall where we stand, but see no way inside. As I open my mouth to ask where the secret entrance might be, I stop as Garreg approaches a section of the barricade. He places both palms against the stone and, moving his hands slowly apart, creates an opening. Giving me a wink, he enters. Too stunned to question the strange event, I follow, leading Hetty behind me.

The city is unlike anything I've ever seen. Morning light sparkles on the pristine white stones of each building. The streets are clean, free from beggars and malnourished children. The people moving to and fro, either on horseback or in carriages, are dressed in fine garments and have an air of superiority about them that dims their auras. It's as if the scourge has left Heldra untouched. Despite the beauty of the city itself, however, it is an ugly place; more so than all the dead lands around it.

The pendant is warm as it pulsates against my chest, telling me Bronek is indeed here somewhere. He'll have to wait, though. Syndel comes first.

After taking Hetty to a stable to be cleaned and fed, Garreg speaks to the keeper of the finest inn in Heldra and somehow secures the main suite on the top floor. I watch as he hands over a stack of ten gold coins. I've been instructed to remain at a distance behind him, as any servant would do. It's all I can do to suppress my indignation. I can't help but think we're wasting time. Garreg joins me again, nodding toward the grand staircase at the other end of the lobby.

“Shall we?”

I wait until we're in our lavish room before asking the obvious question. “Where did you get the money to pay for this?”

The stone man grins, his round teeth now looking perfectly human. “Watch.” He takes a rounded pebble out of his pocket and clasps it in his fist. When he lifts his fingers I see a single gold coin.

Another trick, like what he did back at the wall. I hate to admit I'm impressed. “You're going to need a lot more than that to gain an audience with the Noble-lords.”

“I'll take care of that while you take a bath.” He wrinkles his nose at me and my filthy attire. “And I'll see to some new clothes.”

He leaves the suite, once again humming a tune. His jovial mood does not match the seriousness of the situation. I choose to assume he's just excited to be doing something to thwart his deranged former master. Either that or Garreg is just as deranged.

Grumbling to myself, I wander through the numerous rooms until I find the washroom. There are two large, square tubs, both already filled with steaming water. I can't quite decide why there would be two of them. I disrobe, setting my mud-stained clothes in a neat pile on the floor and then climb into the nearest tub, sloshing a bit of water over the rim. As I sit there, soaking in the heat, I understand the need for the second tub. All the dried mud from my skin and hair is now mixed with the water, making it a useless mess. I hop out of the first tub and sink into the other, reaching for the nearby bottles of scented soap. The suds multiply and float on the surface, nearly covering my entire head. I might enjoy something like this if circumstances were different, but now I just want Garreg to return so we can find Syndel.

After drying myself with a soft towel, I wrap it around my waist and exit the washroom. I can only assume that, for the price we've paid, someone will come by to clean up later.

The stone man returns with a stack of boxes, each tied with silk ribbons. I try not to roll my eyes at such pretentiousness. “I hope they fit,” Garreg says, setting them on one of the tables in the sitting room. “They cost a fortune.”

He winks at me, but I ignore him as I untie the ribbons and cast them aside. Inside the boxes are well-stitched garments. Not as flamboyant as Garreg's or the people's I've seen outside, but enough to prove I'm in the company of high class. “Isn't this kind of pointless?” I ask as I don the finery—an undershirt, long-sleeved tunic, vest, breeches, stockings, and knee-high boots. “You said no one will look at me.”

“Not you, no, but they can't help but notice your clothing. All eyes secretly gauge a man's wealth by the way he presents those in his service. It's all very illogical and pompous.”

I agree with that. The clothes fit well, though the vest is stiff. Garreg looks me up and down, nodding with approval.

“Perhaps you could pass as a Noble-lord,” he says. “Too late now. Shall we make our grand entrance at the stronghold and find your precious maiden?”