The Magical Legacy

ROSS 11

VITTAJORD - DYRRHEIM - PRESENT DAY

Hmm... thought Ross as he began the trek down the path leading out of the tunnel and into the verdant valley below.

Gundar said there would be border guards. But I guess not. A broad grin split his face, and his eyes gleamed.

Maybe I managed to skate that hassle by traveling through the hidden tunnel instead of taking a traditional route.

He started to whistle, taking extended, lengthy strides impelled by the gravity from the steep incline.

I'm just happy to be through that mess from back there, in Blarjord. I mean, I'm sure I must have crossed the border by now.

He inhaled deeply, appreciating the fragrant greenery and wildflowers growing in abundance along the edges of the path, and filling the meadows beyond.

All that harsh environment...whether scorching desert or freezing ice fields...just seems more like a demon realm. He gazed again, with gladness, at the beautiful, sun-kissed landscape before him. And this place? It just FEELS far more angelic! I hope I can make it to that city before nightfall. He thought, as he watched the suns dipping below the horizon beyond.

He was just turning a bend, to the left, in the path and it dumped him, abruptly, into a shallow gorge. There were, what appeared to be, wetlands ahead, with weepy-looking, moss-covered trees draped over a shallow marsh. And he noticed a significant increase in the wildlife presence here than he had seen during the entire rest of his trip, up until now. He slapped at a mosquito sucking the blood from his exposed forearm as he noticed, to his horror, the tail of an alligator-like reptile sliding down a muddy bank and disappearing into the murky bog.

Uhh...I may have spoken too soon. He wrinkled his nose and glanced down at the head-covering in his arm. This might not be such a bad idea in these parts. He murmured, pulling the hood over his head, wrapping the scarf around his face and neck, once again. He could see, up ahead, the road opened up again into a dryer area not too far away.

This seems like just a narrow strip of marshland I'm going to have to get through. He thought. Glancing to the left, and then the right he could see that the boggy area extended quite some distance in both directions, but this road appeared to pass through a relatively small strip of it.

As long as I just stick to the road, and move quickly, hopefully, I won't encounter anything too threatening.

He made sure to pull his socks up, tuck his under-shirt well into his pants, and tug his shirt-sleeves down as far as he could before plowing forward into the murky quagmire.

There was, what looked like a blue-heron standing out in the middle of the water, to his right. Only it wasn't blue. It was a florescent chartreuse-green color, and it cawed loudly as he passed. Ross shivered, shrugging his shoulders and pulling his arms more tightly to his body as he speed-walked as quickly as he could through the nightmarish place. The path he was on was becoming a little muddy and his leather shoes were squishing and sloshing in the gunk when, thankfully, a decrepit, but functional-looking wooden plank bridge, appeared, spanning over the bog.

He gingerly stumbled across the walkway, arriving at the opposite side, when he heard a sharp cry overhead. The mossy trees obscured his visibility of the sky, so he was unable to see the source of the screech. But the cry was accompanied by, what sounded like, the flapping of enormous wings. And the path ahead was covered in moving shadows as he ran forward, striving to make it the rest of the way through the marshland. He could glimpse now, still a good ways off in the distance, but indications of civilization. Ross thought he spotted the suggestion of a huge stone bridge and buildings beyond that, at the end of the road up ahead. It looked like this dirt path merged with a larger, more well-traveled road. There was a post with multiple wooden signs attached where this path ended up ahead.