Page 7 of The Glass Unicorn: Part 6

“There are plenty of Fae folk whose sole goal is to lead travelers astray so they can devour them. There are kelpie, and nixies, and will-o’-the-wisps, and all sorts of marsh folk who don’t welcome strangers. There are also swamp witches, and while they aren’t necessarily evil, they tend to be out for themselves. I doubt if any good folk live in the marshes at all. And all of those creatures wait for travelers, their common prey.”

Erosel set down beside her husband, placing her hand on his forearm. “Trust Otsiano. He’s been through the marshes a couple of times. It’s a place filled with danger, and far too many ‘accidents’ that happen there. You don’t want to be captured forever.”

“What do you mean?” Brynn asked.

“Many of those who go in, never come out. And not all of them are dead. It’s easy to get trapped in the swampland, to lose all sense of yourself and live as the animals do, foraging, hiding from bigger threats. Too many who get lost within those lands forget their family, forget their place of origin, forget the past, and they forget even their names. They wander aimlessly until they either fade or are killed. Or they fall within the swampy waters and are dragged down into the depths by those creatures who inhabit the doom filled waters.” Erosel hung her head, and I had the feeling she knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Who did you lose?” I asked before I could help myself.

Erosel looked up, looking my gaze. She hesitated, then said, “My brother. He was one of the Eagle men, and he fell from the sky into the swamp and broke his wings. Even though he transformed back into his human shape, he couldn’t find hisway out. He might still be there, for all I know. His brethren of the sky staged flybys for weeks, but they never managed to spot him. It was too dangerous for them to go down and search on foot.”

My heart went out to her. She might be a Sym, but she was hurting, and I felt incredibly bad for her.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

The others murmured their sympathies as well, and she merely nodded her head, but she gave me a sad smile that told me she welcomed our condolences.

“When should we start off?” Thornhold asked.

“Now is as good of time as any. I will accompany you to the next portal, so you shouldn’t have any problems reaching there. But once you cross over to the Cryptic Marshes — I can be of no further help. Do you need anything for the journey?” Otsiano asked.

We refilled our food, and Erosel gave us charms to help keep the will-o’-the-wisps at bay. By evening, we were ready. I wasn’t sure about starting out at night, but given that the Guardian of the Crystal Forest was with us, I figured we might as well get started. The more distance we put between the Necromancer and ourselves, the better off we were.

I thanked Erosel for her hospitality, and — with Otsiano leading the way — we headed out into the Crystal Forest, under a clear, cold night.

Over the nextthree days we journeyed. I noticed the weather was getting cooler, even here in the Crystal Forest. The nights were icy, the sky illuminated by brilliant stars shimmeringagainst the autumn sky. The days were warmer, but little heat radiated off the sun, although I welcome to the sight of it.

I took a deep breath. The air was crisp, with the tang of winter hovering near. Soon enough the snows would come, and although they muffled the ground, creating some sense of warmth during the night, compared to the icy clear skies, we would face a long, grueling season.

But the surrounding forest was beautiful. A number of the plants seemed to be bioluminescent, shimmering in the dark, lit up like some black light poster from the late 60s. Here and there crystal shards thrust themselves out of the ground, and mushrooms as high as my kneecaps dappled the forest undergrowth.

“It’s like living in an acid trip,” Thornhold said.

“I’ve never been on one, but you’re right. This fits every stereotype when I think of an LSD trip.” I paused, then asked, “What do you think of Otsiano? I trust him, but somehow I don’t understand how he can be a Sym. He doesn’t act like one.”

Thornhold hesitated, then answered. “I get it. He’s definitely not an employee of Abarria, but neither does he appeared to be a construct. There’s something different about him — something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

“You too?” Reggie asked, overhearing us. He sidled over to stand by us. “He’s something different, but I can’t tell you what.”

“Well if he’s not a Sym, and he’s not a human employee, what the hell is he?” Thornhold asked.

“I don’t know, but he feelsseparatefrom the game. I don’t think I’m explaining myself very well,” Reggie said. “I guess… What I’m trying to say… Is that if the game didn’t exist, Otsiano still would.”

I was still trying to make sense of it all when Otsiano called us over to his side. He was standing at the edge of the path,peering into what appeared to be a clearing between two incredibly tall cedars.

“Come, my friends, and gaze upon the wonders of my kingdom. This is one of the most sacred places in the Crystal Forest.”

As we joined him, I suddenly saw what Reggie was talking about. There was something odd about Otsiano’s aura. I had seen the same with Erosel. As though it existed beyond the game. But for the life of me, I didn’t know what it was.