The sun shone on Twig’s jacket. It was a warm spring day, and she longed to take it off, but the swamp lay just ahead, green and shadowy. Wet and teeming with bugs—and much, much worse. Her mini-backpack was safe under her bright red shell. On her back was her bow and quiver. The queen had promised her safe passage in and out of Terracornus for the event, but still, after Ben went into the Death Swamp, she’d be all alone.
Merrill was supposed to be here. He’d been granted the same pass, yet he hadn’t met them by the passage tree as they’d planned. They’d sent Emmie with a message, but she’d come back to them with it still in the little tube attached to her leg, unopened.
The queen was there with her entourage. A handful of Eastlanders stood by as well, to ensure fair play.
The queen gave Twig and Ben a tight smile. “Neal will accompany you through the swamp, Ben.”
Ben nodded stoically, but Twig couldn’t help a grimace of distaste. She didn’t trust Neal or the queen. What if they were up to something? What if it had something to do with Merrill not being here?
“Neal can help me carry this.” Ben pointed to the pirogue they’d set down behind them. “It’s not heavy; Twig and I can carry it. But it does take two.”
“A boat?” the Eastlanders murmured. “What are they doing with a boat?”
The Queen of Westland stepped forward. She looked from the pirogue at Ben and Twig’s feet to Ben’s face. For an instant she looked stricken, near panic.
“What are you doing with that boat, my son?” The calm was as forced as the smile.
“We’ve decided not to take the boardwalk, Mother. We’ll go through the swamp in a pirogue—this boat—instead.”
The most senior member of the Eastland party cleared his throat. “Just a minute there.” He took out a piece of paper and followed the lines of script with a crooked finger. Finally he looked up and shook his head. “There is no rule against it.”
“Let me see that,” one of the women from his group said. “Whatever they can carry. It says so right here. The contestant, one companion, one unicorn each, and whatever they can carry.”
“But they have to ride in, don’t they?” A middle-aged Eastlander tugged at his beard in agitation.
The woman’s nut-brown hair bobbed as she shook her head. “It’s not in the rules.”
“But it’s tradition! What will Prince Reynald say? We have a responsibility.”
Her face twisted in a smirk. “Prince Reynald would say let them have their boat. Let them try to traverse the Death Swamp by water.”
“The swamp will do his work for him,” the bearded man agreed grimly.
“It will be disappointing, I’m sure, not to have a fight. But one way or another, Reynald wins this duel.”
“You mean to say you are going to let these two paddle into the Death Swamp in this—this—canoe?” the queen said.
“It’s a pirogue,” Twig said.
“Ben,” the queen said, “you must take the boardwalk. I insist on it.”
Ben shook his head. “This is my duel, Mother.”
“I’m afraid Neal will be unable to accompany you, then. If you go this way, then you go alone.”
“No, he doesn’t!” Twig’s pulse pounded as she spoke up. She couldn’t let Ben take that boardwalk and fight Reynald to the death. Though the duelers’ companions weren’t allowed to fight for them, they could assist them, help protect them from the dangers of the swamp. “He goes with me.”
“With you?” the queen said.
Twig flexed her left hand. It was healed now. They’d practiced and planned and packed. But was she really ready to face the Death Swamp?
“Yes, I’ll be his companion. I’ll help him through the Death Swamp.”
“Twig…” Ben looked at her, full of surprise and worry. If the Death Swamp didn’t kill her, the Murleys would once they found out.
“I know that map by heart.”
“I cannot let you—”
“You don’t have a choice. We’re partners, remember? We’re the herders of Lonehorn Island.” At least for a few more days, when Daddy would come home and she’d have to leave Wonder, the ranch, everything.
He nodded slowly, understanding. “Partners.”
The queen gave them a cold, hard look. Then she turned her back on them and walked away.
“Is she going to stop us?” Twig whispered to Ben.
“She cannot. Not now. She’s already agreed to the duel. She gave her word.”
“She’s not happy.”
“She’ll never be happy with me.”
From the other side of the swamp, a long horn blast sounded.
“Eastland is ready. Come on, Twig. We’re going to beat Reynald there and take his flag before he makes it halfway through the Death Swamp.”
Twig couldn’t help smiling. Finally, Ben believed in the plan she and the girls had come up with. Even if it was only because his mother opposed it. Ben was determined to win and keep the Death Swamp from winning any of their lives while they were at it.
“Ben!” Griffin grabbed his arm and hissed. “You cannot do this. It will never work. Just take the boardwalk, please.”
“I have a better chance this way.”
“You have no chance! Do you understand? No chance at all!”
From the other side of the swamp, the horn sounded again. Ben said, “Ready.”
It was Griffin’s job to blow the ram’s horn. Flames of anger shot from his eyes like the blue fire in the stories of the Death Swamp, but he raised it to his mouth and blew.
Twig shot Griffin a reproachful look, slipped Wonder’s lead around her wrist, and grabbed her end of the pirogue.
Twig and Ben lifted the boat together and headed for the entrance to the Death Swamp. Emmie circled over the crowd, then landed on top of the pirogue. Indy and Wonder neighed their distaste and confusion as Twig and Ben tethered them to a tree at the edge of the swamp. Twig’s arms shook as she balanced the edge of the pirogue on her shoulder. She felt the load lighten a little as Ben put some more muscle—more than his share—into lifting the other side of the boat.
Emmie launched into the air, high above the treetops. Twig hoped she wouldn’t go far. She liked to think they’d keep some connection with the world outside the swamp, even if it was just one small emerald pigeon.
Twig took the first step off the sticky but still mostly solid ground and onto the boardwalk. The boards were gray, the gray of death. Bright green foam seeped up between them—not the brightness of life—the brightness of toxic stuff that could end it.
They carried the pirogue a few yards in, then carefully stepped to one side and lowered it to the boardwalk. Twig’s hands were still shaking. She felt something wet. A blob of green foam. She shook her hand, flinging it into the swamp.
“It’s just algae,” Ben reminded her. “Touching the water won’t hurt you.”
Twig nodded, glad she’d held back that yelp. If things were anything like Earth here, then she only had to worry about the water getting into any cuts and scrapes and causing infection.
They turned the pirogue over and slowly lowered it into the water. Ben held it still against the boardwalk while Twig fetched Wonder.
“You get in first, Twig.”
She stepped in, Wonder’s lead in hand. She smiled steadily and looked into Wonder’s eyes. “Wonder-girl, we’re going for a little ride. Look what I have for you.” Twig showed Wonder the lump of sugar, a rare treat. “Come on.”
Wonder stepped into the boat, then lost her nerve and tried to bounce back out. The boat lurched with her sudden movement, and Wonder splashed into the water.
The boat drifted a few inches, then stopped, stuck in the mud. Thank God the water was only a few inches deep. But Wonder snorted and shook her head. Twig groped in the ooze for her lead. If Wonder bolted into the swamp—
Ben stretched across the boardwalk on his belly, trying to grab the boat. “Use the paddle, Twig. I cannot reach it.”
Twig held the lead tight with one hand and took the paddle in the other. She pushed off the mud with it, and Ben grasped the side of the pirogue and drew it back. Wonder wanted to follow. She scrambled back into the boat. Twig talked her into sitting down so she could pet her and still reach the ground with the paddle.
It wasn’t so hard to get Indy into the pirogue once Wonder was there, though he made it clear how unhappy he was about it. He glared at Ben, then at Wonder for getting in first. The unicorns had a little discussion. Both of them were on their feet and looking ready to jump. They had to do something or they were never going to get on their way. Already the Boy King had a head start.
“Push!” Twig cried. “Quick!”
They both pushed the pirogue off and into deeper water before their unicorns could make their escape. The pirogue cut through the water, smooth and quiet and quick. Twig allowed herself a smile. They were on their way. They were going to do this.
Overhead, a bright green blur wove in and out of view. As though to offer them extra reassurance, Emmie cooed. Her call bounced off the swamp life, sounding like more than just one bird. Not alone.
Mrs. Murley often told Twig she was never alone. But she and Ben would be, until they made it to the other side of the swamp. Even then, would there be a friendly face to welcome them? Would Merrill make it? The group from Westland would be hurrying around the swamp right now to meet them. Only a small delegation from each side would remain by its entrance to be witnesses.
Twig took her sketchbook from her mini-backpack and wrote a quick note. “Ben, see if you can call Emmie back. I want to try to send a message one more time.”
The cooed answer to Ben’s whistle was barely audible. But in a moment, the letter pigeon arrived. Twig rolled her note up tight. It was addressed to everyone. Merrill, the Murleys, Casey, her parents, explaining what she’d done, apologizing. Telling them she loved them. Just in case.
The swamp was almost peaceful, and the smell wasn’t so bad now that Twig had gotten used to it. Lulled by the gliding of the boat, Wonder and Indy rested. Maybe all the stories were exaggerations, tales grown taller over time.
“Pull to the left,” Ben said. Even he sounded at ease as they navigated around a cluster of tree roots that jutted into their path, arching high above the water. Twig followed the roots with her eyes, up to the trunk, into the dangling branches. They were strangely dark, the lichen blackish. Mist hovered over the water—not the mist of Lonehorn Island, but a brownish gloom.
Ben took in a sharp breath. “This is it, Twig,” he whispered. “The heart of the Death Swamp.”