Squib Ep.10 - Estranged Relief

(Start at the beginning here.)

Squib took a knee and scratched at an itch clawing its way up his cheek. He peered into the distant swamp as the rest of the group came and formed up behind him.

Before the group lay a vast expanse of swamp, pools of stagnant water, an archipelago of traversable ground, and scores of sorrowful looking trees. In other words precisely more of what the group had been seeing every day on their journey thus far.

Squib knew differently though. Squib could see things that the others could not.

“What’s the hold up?” Big and Rowdy, bringing up the rear, looked around for answers.

“An excellent question, er Squib m’boy, what are you looking at?”

“Shhh!” Squib hushed harshly and muttered something in gobbeldy-gook. This was it, he was sure of it. It had been a long time, but he recognised it well enough now that he’d given it a good twice over. “The witches lair.” He whispered.

“The what? The what now? Did anybody catch that?” Stuffy looked around for confirmation.

“I think he said, The witches lair.” The cat chimed, her ears twitching at the subtle sounds- forever twitching.

“Where?!” Big and rowdy took a heavy step forward, looking about as though he were about to spot some large manse jutting out of the mud.

“Shhhh!” Squib protested again. Normally he might chew the group out for their vocal transgressions, but he had no desire to make any unsolicited noise himself. He turned his head slowly, a conspiratorially wicked look in his eyes, “The witch is near.”

“Oh fantastic! Let’s get on with meeting her shall we, time is wasting.” Stuffy looked around hopefully, all sense of the danger expressed by Squib, lost.

“Err, where is she, exactly?” Stuffy looked at Squib, unsure.

Squib narrowed his eyes. Time had done nothing to warm him to the parties sensibilities, and despite their trials he couldn't wait to see the back of them. Turning, he dislodged a couple of stones from the dirt and pointed into a clearing where an old broken stump of Willow stood, “There.”

“There?” Big and Rowdy pointed.

“There.” Squib said again.

“Where, there?” Big and Rowdy asked again, a little more irate, a little more confused.

“There!” Squib’s voice raised, his arm drawing back and thrusting forward for added emphasis.

“The old broken tree?” Big and Rowdy had that look on his face, the mix of cautious disbelief and a desire to hit something in order to resolve the problem.

Squib growled, “Yes, there!”

Big and Rowdy threw his hands into the air, “You’ve got to be shitting me.” He turned his back on Squib, on the stump, on the entirety of the quest it seemed, before turning back to Stuffy.

“Are you listening to this? Are we still seriously considering following this Goblin about the swamp?” For once, Big and Rowdy didn't sound so big and rowdy, though he did not lack in seriousness.

Stuffy seemed stirred by the plea and unconfident himself. “Err, Squib, perhaps we’re missing something. Didn't you mention a floating island?”

Of course he’d mentioned a floating island. Why did they think it had taken so long to find. It wasn't about traveling to one corner of the swamp and knocking on some old crones door. The trip had to be a zigzag of exploration, looking for clues, finding the right path, keeping one's eyes out to spot the subtle note’ in amongst the every-day. Forget that the Goblin had spent his whole life in the swamp; that he’d survived on his own for more seasons that he might dream of one day counting; that he’d outlasted the eradication of his entire tribe by those Gray Goblin scum!

Stuffy was certainly missing something, and Squib had a mind to jam his dagger through his foot to remedy that little inconsistency.

“Patience,” He thought, and turned from his incredulous crew before he did something brash. He drew back his arm and lobbed a stone into the distance. They all watched as it landed on the mound of earth surrounding the stump and rolled to a stop.

“What’s he doing?” Big and Rowdy’s manner had returned to his regular level of consternation.

“He appears to be throwing rocks.” The Tavern Owner chirped. Squib thought he heard a bird.

“Shh! Throwing rocks. Watch!” He threw another, then another. Everyone watched. Five or six stones later, as Squib readied his next throw, the ground surrounding the stump raised three feet out of the mire. Its surrounding waters swirled and shifted in a swell, the mud sucking and popping with displaced air. The island turned a few degrees anticlockwise- three, thick, mud covered appendages appeared, lifting to find new purchase- then the whole thing sunk back down to become one with the swamp.

Everyone stared in a long moment's silence.

“Floating island.” Squib announced.

“Indeed.” Stuffy proclaimed, the confident tone to his pompous voice inflating.

“What the hell is that?” Big and Rowdy stood with his weapon drawn, a thing gone unnoticed by the others in all the commotion.

“Witches pet.” Squib answered. He didn't know the story but that’s how he’d always thought about it.

“And this witch, she’s in that stump?” Big and Rowdy sounded Humble and Reasonable for once, which caught Squib by surprise. It did a great deal in quelling his own anxieties, and had a remarkable impression on his response.

Squib pointed at the stump again, his voice no longer biting, he looked at Big and Rowdy and said, “There.”

The stump, now shifted with the turn of the island, revealed a new twist in the wood. A gaping, shadowy chasm stood open, staring toward the group, large enough for an average size man to enter. The space inside the trunk would be a squat and cramped living quarters, even for Squib, but with the shedding of the new light, much like the island itself, it was suddenly apparent there was more to the stump than met the eye.

“Alright then,” Big and Rowdy gave a firm nod, cast his eyes ahead, and marched forward. The Tavern Owner and The Cat followed. Stuffy paused a moment to speak to Squib.

“And you’re sure you want to wait out here?”

Squib nodded. “You go. I wait here.” He said already slinking back to hide behind a rotting log. Stuffy watched for a moment, turned, and marched off.

One by one they disappeared into the darkness of the stump, slipping through the veil that separated them from this world. Squib looked around cautiously, holding his breath for a long moment as he let the silence of the swamp settle in around him. He let go his breath when he decided the ordeal was over.

“Phew.” He afforded himself the express relief. The witch hadn't made an appearance, despite all the noise. It was a wonder why not and Squib sank physically into the appose of relaxation. He allowed himself the moment to close his eyes. “What a day,” He thought. “What a Goblin!” He chuckled quietly to himself.

The bark of the tree beside him began to peel from the trunk, silently curling as it arched ominously above the Goblin. Tangles of thin, wiry vines, mottled into a confusing ball rolled down from one of the jutting branches. Long sheets of wavy lichen covered moss coalesced from the base, moving all together with the rest in a watery, shadowy manner as it came into form.

Above Squib a figure took form, a hag of a woman, with wild gray hair, weathered leathery skin, and clothes that looked both parts ancient and alive with unidentifiable properties.

She stared down, hunched as she was over the unsuspecting Goblin in his due, or undue, moment of peace.

“You!” The voice cut like shrapnel on a tin roof.

Squib nearly shat himself.

(Continue to Ep.11)

(Episode Directory)

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