It didn’t take long before Baelin found the fight he was looking for.

They’d pressed deeper into the swamp where their surroundings turned rougher, and grisly remains of slaughtered birds, giant swamp otters, and enormous turtles that were eaten right out of their shells, lay everywhere.

Alex imagined Vesuvius not being amused at the sight.

Then he cleared his thoughts.

The others were on alert, though Baelin appeared quite relaxed. Those goat-like eyes, however, were scanning the marsh with that piercing gaze of his. Hart kept an arrow nocked on his bow string. Drestra held her hands out, ready to direct spells, while Alex had several booby-trapped sleeping and mana soothing potions in floating Wizard’s Hands.

Claygon stood in the centre of the boat, his hands spread, ready to fire beams at anything coming too close.

Cedric had gone an extra step.

His morphic weapon had shimmered, transforming from a spear into a magnificent recurve bow of gleaming silver with a silver string taut between its tips. The Chosen had muttered a quick prayer to Uldar and conjured glowing arrows, much like those the centaur priests used at the Games of Roal.

Alex eyed the bow. ‘I really gotta ask what the hell that weapon is once we get through this,’ he thought. ‘I wouldn’t mind getting one for myse—’ His thoughts paused and his face turned sour. ‘—oh, that’s right. What am I thinking? The Mark and Uldar would never let that happen—’

‘Shhhhhh!’ Baelin hissed a warning.

Alex's bitter thoughts vanished.

The chancellor whispered a command that swept through the watercraft, slowing it. “Do not give any indication that you’ve noticed anything amiss, but something approaches.”

Everyone went silent, their eyes searching the gloom. They remained still, even their breathing was soundless while the boat drifted forward like an eel slipping through the murk.

Hart subtly looked left, indicating a spot through the evening light and falling snow, deep within the trees.

Alex’s gaze shifted left.

A hundred plus feet away, Baelin’s true seeing spell revealed translucent creatures moving noiselessly through the turbid swampwater, hunting for food.

More than two dozen Invisible Marauders inched closer, confident in their innate invisibility to keep them hidden. ‘If those things weren’t so deadly the situation would be pretty funny.’ Alex thought, fighting the urge to laugh. ‘They’re so sure we can’t see them, that they’re not even trying to hide. Guess what monsters, we can see you.’

Their actions might have been funny, but there was nothing funny about their appearance.

Some were scrawny, most bore long jagged scars—like they’d fought for their very lives—on parts of their bodies not submerged in swampwater. Several had fresh wounds, open and raw. It looked like they’d been in a brawl recently.

Well, they were about to be in another one.

“Let ‘em get closer,’ Hart said. “Maybe around sixty feet. Then we hit ‘em hard and keep ‘em from escaping back into the marsh.”

Stock-still, they waited, watching their hunters swim closer, foot by foot, until...

“Now!” Hart shouted, and hell was unleashed.

The Chosen and Champion’s hands blurred on their bowstrings, launching a dozen arrows in heartbeats. Glowing bolts flashed from Cedric’s bow like bursting fireworks, striking scaly skin, holy power rampaged through convulsing bodies.

Hart’s thick arrows had the speed and force of a small battering ram, sinking Invisible Marauders or flinging them through the air like limp dolls.

Drestra roared an incantation and aimed a spell at their attackers.

Orange light flashed beneath the line of marauders, illuminating the murky water. Steam exploded, scaly skin blistered red. Some died, but some survived and persisted, driven by one basic need, food. Prey had grown scarce.

They charged Baelin’s boat, but some stopped mid-lunge, shrieking and clawing at their own flesh: Alex’s water elementals were latched onto them, sucking their moisture, absorbing it like a sea sponge. The marauders clutched their throats, gasping for breath like caught fish until their struggles weakened and they mummified, sinking beneath the muddy waters.

Alex didn’t bother using his Wizard’s Hands, it wasn’t necessary. Baelin had watched while his young companions fought the marauders, then when he was ready, he nodded and spoke a single word of power.

An enormous surge of power preceded the tell-tale signature of summoning magic.

The remaining marauders began to scream.

Below the monsters, the water began churning in a spiral, red froth spun violently as scores of squat, foot-long fish materialised beneath the water’s surface, tearing at the creatures like packs of starving Grimlochs.

In seconds, invisible marauders swirled in the water, dragged to the bottom of the swamp, or floating on the water’s surface as no more than bones.

“Well that’s one way t’get things done,” Cedric said.

“I don’t think I’ll be jumping overboard to get my arrows back,” Hart grunted. “Good little fight, though.”

“And less marauders to attack the village or anyone out foraging,” Drestra said. “That was a big pack, I have to say. They only gather in larger groups for protection, so there’s definitely a threat somewhere deeper in the swamp. I hope whatever they're afraid of doesn't have my kin.”

“This ain’t much consolation, but they’ll regret it if’n they do.” Cedric said.

“Thanks for summoning those vuncali fighting fish Baelin, it was a good idea for now and for later. I think I get why you called them.” He continued. “They drew blood, now they’ll look for more blood in the water and follow the smell, which should take them to wherever the wounded marauders came from. If we follow the fish, we should find what wounded them. That could give us some information about what’s going on deeper in the Crymlyn.”

Alex looked around. “If—you have to go back to Generasi this evening—we’ll have a great start for tomorrow.”

“Ah! You catch on quickly,” the chancellor said.

“Hey, you taught us to let today’s advantages be the beginning of tomorrow’s advantages,” Alex said. “And I didn’t exactly sleep through your class.”

“No, you got top marks and for good reason! Well done, Alex,” the ancient wizard praised him.

It took all of the young wizard’s will to resist the irrational, childish urge to throw a smug grin at Hart.

###

They tracked Baelin’s fish through the swamp, following the marauders’ blood trails.

All of a sudden, it seemed the swamp had come alive.

Invisible marauder attacks were frequent. No sooner had they put a lone creature down, a pair, or trio would attack. Sometimes the attacks came from large groups. Though the Heroes, Alex and Baelin eliminated them quickly, the spreading scent of blood seemed to attract more.

They were starving and—as Drestra explained—weren’t above cannibalism. Marauders emerged to feast on their own kind, trying to drag them away from the prying eyes of those who’d killed them.

But the Sage kept them from escaping, blasting them before they could grab their meal and leave.

“There’s far too many of these,” she’d said. “Each one we eliminate will make the winter and spring safer for my people.” She looked at Baelin and Alex’s summoned monsters. “I have to say, those spells are quite handy. We witches don’t practise that kind of summoning: our summoning spells require a lot of ritual and preparation to bind the spirits we ask for aid, and we always give something in return.”

“Yeah, that’s called subjugation type summoning,” Alex said, watching Bubbles and the other water elementals drink the moisture from a marauder’s dead body. “It’s not the friendliest way to summon monsters, but if your only goal is summoning a lot of creatures that’ll get stuff done for you quickly? It’s the best kind.”

“Indeed,” Baelin said. “At a quieter time I can give you a crash course on the types of summoning that are possible, when it’s convenient for us both.”

“Thanks,” Drestra said. “I learned some summoning spells in the capital like the ones you both used, but they weren’t efficient for destroying Ravener-spawn. I find it easier to just hit them with fire, lightning or ice…”

She watched the fish. “But having a small army that I can control... Subjugation-type summoning, you called it? Interesting. Anyway, this talk is just distracting us right now. We should leave it for another time.”

Deeper into the swamp they went, fighting more marauders along the way. Soon the tang of blood was so strong that—rather than attracting starving marauders—it was driving them away in fear.

Things grew quiet and the Heroes, wizards and golem moved through the water undisturbed.

“Pfeh, it seems somewhat pointless for us to have been invisible when facing creatures that can turn invisible themselves. Blast it.” Baelin frowned. “No doubt there are other foes waiting…though I suspect the element of surprise has been lost. Loud, running battles tend to attract attention, whether you want them to or not. Hmmm. But it seems that we aren’t the only ones to have had such battles in this area.”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I see what you mean.”

Signs of terrible violence marked the foliage. Entire islands of grass had been burned away. Trees were downed. Skeletal remains of invisible marauders floated in murky water, or poked through the roots of towering trees.

Their bones had been crushed, battered, burnt or split. Probably by large weapons.

“Something’s claiming this territory as its own,” Drestra said. “Something new. I’ve never seen anything like this in our lands before.”

“Probably them damn demons,” Cedric said. “An’ their cultists. Bloody hell, I didn’ think they’d gotten this deep into Thamela—”

“Hold on,” Hart said, pointing through the gloom. By now, between the deepening shadows of evening and the worsening snow, it was hard to see clearly.

It looked like there were masses rising from an island ahead, like giant tortoise shells, or piles of something. But, what? A wave of dread went through Alex. The Orb of Air he wore cut all smells, and short of removing it, all he could do was wonder if the stench of rot was in the air.

Were they going to reach that island and find Drestra’s kinfolks’ bodies piled high, left to rot in the swamp? Demon worshippers weren’t known for their kindness. From the Sage’s manner, it was clear she also feared the worst: her shoulders tensed the closer they came to the island, and her knuckles had turned white from gripping the boat.

It was Baelin who chased away their fear.

“Wizard’s Eyes have checked what lies before us,” he announced. “It appears those shadowy mounds are tents: we have found an abandoned campsite.”

Sighs of relief came from each Hero while Drestra whispered a prayer of thanks to the spirits. Baelin’s boat reached the island and they quickly disembarked, each scanning a different part of it with weapons, potions and fire-gems ready.

But all was quiet.

The campsite held half a dozen empty tents, scattered tools, and a rumpled bed roll left on the cold ground. Nearby, several sturdy mooring posts for good-size boats stood, but all were empty.

Two objects in the centre of camp drew their attention.

The first was a dead campfire, which Drestra immediately touched. Her frown deepened. “It’s still warm. This camp was used very recently.”

“And abandoned in a hurry,” Alex noted, approaching the second object of interest.

It was a large, circular stone disk, large enough for a large animal to be laid on. A summoning circle had been carved in it, and within the circle, a partly eaten corpse of an invisible marauder lay.

Cedric leaned down, touching it. “Hm, this body’s still warm too.”

Alex checked the snowy ground, noting footprints. He called on the Mark, and it showed him images of his time in the countryside of Generasi, tracking the vespara with Theresa. Noting the shapes of the tracks, their depth and their stride length, he started to put a picture together.

The Fool crouched, peering at the mud.

“There were about ten…maybe twelve people here,” he said. “All humans or races of similar height and weight. That looks like the imprint of a weapon rack over there.” He pointed at a deep impression in the light layer of snow beside a tent. “And a few areas where people, maybe guards, sat. The edges of the island have impressions of piled logs: probably for people to sit on and watch the swamp.”

He went to the water’s edge. “They posted sentries mostly on the side of the swamp we came from. They were probably watching to see if anyone made it this far while searching for the missing witches, in case an Invisible Marauder or other beast didn’t get them first.”

Alex pointed to the other side of the island. “All the mooring posts are on that side, which means they probably came from somewhere deeper in the swamp. I wouldn’t be surprised if that blood trail your fish were tracking came from somewhere near here, Baelin.”

The chancellor’s eyes unfocused for a moment. “Indeed. There looks to be a battle sight not one hundred yards from here where my vuncali fish have tracked the trail too.”

“Right…” Alex said, tapping his chin. “That fits. It might be a bit early to come to conclusions, but I think this is an outpost. We might’ve found the cult’s territory.”