The Swamp

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That evening, Harry approached the king.

“Sire,” he said. “I’ve been told you are in the market for Naiads.”

“I am. I’ll be leaving in three weeks time for a fountain where I’m told a Naiad lives.”

Harry thought fast. “Only one?”

“I need seven fingers. That’s all.”

“More’s the pity, since Naiads have only three fingers on each hand. You’ll need at least two, and that assuming the wording of your spell doesn’t require one finger from each of seven Naiads.”

“Who told you that?”

“About the spell?”

“About the Naiads.”

“Oh, a traveler passing through today. Fortunately, he also said that Naiads prefer swampy areas. He told me has seen many in the swamps that border the southern reaches of your very own land.”

The king narrowed his eyes at Harry. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“No one goes to the swamps, do they?”

The king thought, then grunted in agreement. “We will leave tomorrow. You will come along and owe your life to me as a slave if you lie.” And with that, the king waved a dismissal.

The following morning, Dewclaw came weeping into the stable.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“King has found Naiads. He goes soon to capture them. All our hope is lost.”

Harry put his arm around her, “Dewclaw, don’t worry. I have a plan to break the spell. Trust me, going to the swamp is all part of my plan.”

Dewclaw looked up at him, confused.

“It’s alright, even if it doesn’t work, there are no real Naiads for him to catch.” Harry didn’t mention what his own punishment would be if his plan didn’t work. 

A new hope shone in Dewclaws eyes. “I will follow,” she said. "I want to see.”

“Alright, just be careful.”

The next morning, Harry was put on a horse and a company set out south towards the swamps. It took two days to reach their destination, and all the while, Harry caught the occasional glimpse of a fox following them. The human would be following further behind, he was sure, the better to remain hidden.

They camped the last night at the edge of the swamp. Sometime between midnight and dawn, Harry was woken by Dewclaw’s tongue on his cheek. He followed her into the swamp where Fastfoot was hiding.

“So far so good,” Harry said.

“King will punish you,” Fastfoot said.

Harry sighed. “I know. But not if it works. I only hope that fortune teller knew what she was talking about.”

“You are true friend.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I hope I can consider it a great compliment from a man of so few words.”

“You can.”

“I should get back before I’m missed.” Harry held out his hand to Fastfoot, who shook it firmly, and Harry turned back for the camp.

*** 

“So where are these Naiads?” asked the king loudly as he and Harry picked their way between pools and swamp trees. The rest of the party had been left behind so as not to scare the Naiads.

“Shhh!” Harry scolded. “The traveler said they are very flighty creatures, and will make themselves scarce at the slightest disturbance. Here,” Harry pointed at a large pool. “You must go into the water as slowly and carefully as you can. Don’t disturb the surface, or you’ll frighten them away.”

Looking at him sceptically, the king took off his cloak and over coat, then waded bit by bit into the water. He glanced back, but Harry waved him on and he continued to the centre of the pool, into water up to his waist.

“Now, look into the water. Can you see them?” Harry thought he would explode with anticipation.

The king looked down and before his eyes…his reflection. He whirled his head around in anger at being tricked, but realized too late that it was not just any pool he stood in after all. The clear water of the spring thaw hid a deadly pool with a bottom that sucked at his boots and drew him down. The more he struggled, the faster he sank. He shouted curses, and being a sorcerer, he knew many, Harry realized. But down, deeper into the mire he sank, until his curses were nothing more than a blub, blub coming up from the water. Then nothing.

Harry turned around and there stood Dewclaw with Fastfoot the fox beside her. She gazed at him with a worried look, and Harry hoped desperately that in a moment, she would get her wish.

There was no dawn flash of light, but when the water surface began to calm, a stranger, gentler light engulfed both fox and human. It flowed around them, then blew swiftly away with the wind. Harry stood mouth open once again. Before him stood two foxes.

Looking back at him, then at each other, they leapt for joy. Then they frolicked three circles around him, before dashing away into the swamp. Just once, one of them turned back, Harry couldn’t tell which it was, but he would have sworn it was Dewclaw. She gazed at him one last time, then disappeared under a root.

“Stealing chickens,” Harry mused as he turned from the swamp and shook his head.

Harry became famous.

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