The Swamp Knight's Reward

Wights circled the knight, dancing around him but staying out of the reach of his sword. They passed behind trees, following him as he waded deeper into the swamp.

The woman cried again, her wordless plea for help coming from deep within the mist, and he changed course, pushing further from where his horse had fallen, leaving it to be consumed by the mud. The loyal beast’s nostrils flared and its eyes widened as the wights descended to feast upon its spirit.

The knight threw away his shield, casting it into the water and using his free hand to rip at the brambles blocking his path. Thorns punctured his leather gloves, adding to the blood that dripped from his fingers. His battle had been long and hard, all hope lost until the scream had pulled him from his stupor. With his last breath, he would save whoever was trapped, sacrificing his own worthless life for theirs.

A wight darted in, slashed at his back with its own phantom blade, the ethereal edge passing through his armour and cutting deep into his body. The knight cried out, breaking his vow to suffer in silence. He swung wildly, cutting at the mist, and screamed a curse at the shadows flitting through the trees.

His limbs were growing heavy, and each step required an effort that went beyond the mere physical. He had to reach deep, falling upon his vows of service and duty to lift his legs from the sucking mud and keep moving. This was what he had trained for, this was his destiny.

The damsel screamed again, her otherworldly cry within reach and coming from atop a knoll rising out of the water. The knight plunged forward sinking up to his neck in the fetid swamp. He thrashed and kicked to keep his mouth clear all the while inching closer until he could touch the rock.

Across the mottled curve, he saw his grail huddled at the top, her arms and legs tucked up under a mound of waving hair, caught in an unseen wind. A wight wailed at him and the knight turned to face them with his arms high up out of the water, his back resting against the rock. He spat to clear his mouth and locked eyes with the nearest of the demons and he felt a shiver of fear pass through him. With a shout of anger, the knight hurled his sword at the wights lurking at the edge of the pool, cursing them with his failing strength and turned to climb daring them to strike his unprotected back.

He searched for handholds upon the strange rock and found ridges set at regular intervals, like the brickwork in a castle wall. He cast the strangeness aside and scraped his feet while reaching higher until he was clear of the water and crawling on his belly.

He was breathing hard when he reached the woman and touched her back, intending to turn her over but there was a yielding nature to her skin. The cloth of her diaphanous dress rippled, changing colour from white to red and then to a dull brown. The knight rubbed the mud from his face and tried to focus through the fog of pain that clouded his mind. He tried again to stir the maiden, but his hand pushed down through her arm, plunging into a sack of air that hissed and gave a cry that made the hairs on his neck stand up. He pulled his hand free and fell back as the maiden-shaped mound reformed with a deep sigh.

Anger flared in the knight, and he leapt to his feet, drawing his knife as he did so but the mound shook before he could attack. A crack appeared in the rock and a yawning gap opened beneath him. The knight wobbled and fell to his knees, losing his dagger as he gripped a ridge to prevent himself from falling back into the water.

The maw widened until it was a yard across and then stopped. Something moved within and a heavy scent of perfumed air blasted the knight in the face, dulling his pain and filling him with a desire that he had never known. Golden light fell upon his closed eyes and as he opened them, he looked down into the chasm to find a pearl as large as his own head resting in the fold of a pink tongue.

The knight crouched down to get a closer look, marveling at the size of the treasure. With it, he could buy his own land, a fiefdom, with wealth such as this he could be a king in his own right. He pushed the strange woman from his mind and fell to his stomach, stretching his gauntleted hand for the pearl. Inching ever closer until he grazed the surface with his fingers.

The pearl shifted, catching the light emanating from the mirrored insides of the shell, and blinded the knight with its brilliance. He raised a hand to shield his eyes and slipped, falling onto the soft tongue and rolling up against the object of his desire. He clutched it, staring at his reflection on the perfectly smooth sphere. He owned what every man would want.

The knight was so content with his victory that he didn’t notice the two halves of the clam closing until the gap sealed shut, locking him in with his own avarice.

Air once again filled the body of the maiden and her plaintive cry carried across the swamp, searching for a saviour and promising reward.