There are many living south of the Bog River Chain who believe the entire Earth is covered in a single swamp. They seem more content with life than we of the north, despite the perils they daily face. Perhaps it is because they, being unaware of the grandeur of mountains and the splendor of mighty waterfalls, do not have the capacity to covet.

  Bjorn Hakurney

  Into the Dala and Out Just as Quickly

  A month ago, Neb had fled Oort Valley, leading a group of Atakalan prisoners away from the barbarian army to Tsyanou for safety. From there, he saw them off as they left to rebuild their homes and villages that had been destroyed by Odoacer and his army. But now, Neb found himself back in Oort Valley, in the city Oortou itself, to see if he could recover a piece of his own life. He wandered the ash-coated streets of Oortou, ignoring the suspicious glances from the townspeople. There were rumors going around that the Atakalans had not only chased off the barbarians, ending a three-day siege, but had saved the city from the recent volcano eruption as well. But there were also rumors that the Atakalans were again pressing the Arush to give up their independence and join Atakala. He glanced over his shoulder. A small group of Arush was following him, about a block behind. He didn't care. They were probably just tracking him to make sure he, a northerner, didn't cause any trouble in their city. Whatever; they could follow him if they wanted. He had nothing else in the world. If they arrested him, then so be it. Two hundred years ago, he was an orphan living in Baddig. Now, he wasn't even that, stranded in a nation he didn't know, in a time he shouldn't be, with nothing to his name but that… a strange name of a long dead king, remembered only by librarians and a creepy looking statue in a now far away city.

  He scurried down a narrow dirt street lined with shops, looking up at the signs hanging overhead. Like himself, the majority of the Arush were illiterate, so the signs consisted entirely of a picture related to the business below the sign. At last, at the end of the city he found what he was looking for: a large stick building with a sign over the door bearing the picture of three swamp reeds. Neb slowly pushed the door open and walked inside.

  The interior was just as he expected. It was like a cathedral, albeit a very dirty one built of brush and mud. There were several long benches occupied by about twenty Arush who turned to stare at him as he made his way to the front of the large room. A tall man who had been speaking stepped aside for Neb but said nothing.

  They were all staring at him, which was worrisome, as he hadn't fully worked out what he was going to say.

  “This is the meeting room for the Society for the Admiration and Preservation of Wetlands, is it not?”

  “If you mean the Society for Wetland and Marshland Preservation, then yes, you are correct,” said Samar, the one who had been speaking.

  “Ah, excuse me. Yes, that’s who I’m looking for.”

  “Why does a swamp-hating Atakalan seek out our private meeting? Are you a spy? We did not ask for help, you know. If you think we will eat out of your hand because of the barbarians and the volcano, then forget it.”

  “I am not an Atakalan.”

  “You are a Badd, I can tell from your accent. Do not think you can deceive me, swamp-hater. Thus you are Atakalan, and our enemy.”

  “I lived in Baddig my entire life, but this was before Atakala became a nation. I have no quarrel with your people.”

  “Nonsense! Why, if that were true, you would be well over two hundred years old!” The Arush roared with laughter until Neb raised his hand to quiet them.

  “If you do not believe me, that's fine. The Atakalans do not believe me either. But that is no matter. The fact is that about a month ago, or two hundred years ago, I left Baddig on a journey through Sped Swamp. Now this was a stupid thing to do, and it caused me quite a bit of grief. This is why I have come before you. At the time, there was a reward of one hundred cattle offered to any person who traveled five miles in a swamp and survived. I have no family, no land, no money. Thus I am forced to come before you and claim my prize.”

  “Ha! It is true that long ago, there was such a prize, when we sought to rid northerners of their fear of swamps. But we have not dealt with Baddig for generations. Even if this long expired contest was still on, it would not be open to the Badd.”

  An old man wearing an unusual pine green and bright blue necklace stepped forward. He had slipped in behind Neb, unnoticed in the commotion. “This society was founded upon the principle that the admiration for wetlands must be taught to every tribe between the two rivers. Who are you to decide that the principles of old are no longer to be followed? As I understand it, the prize is yet unclaimed to this day, so it must be given out to this one, if he has truly done what he claims.”

  “Who is that man?” The room filled with commotion as the members quizzed one another. “Why does he bear the colors of our founder?”

  “Here is an Aketi, telling us we must give a hundred cattle to a Badd,” said Samar. “Let us drive these two out of the city at once!”

  “You will do no such thing.” The Arush chief stepped into the room with his guards surrounding him. “I have spoken with this man for many days. He is Ulduk Penney, founder of this organization. You would do well to heed his advice. It is common knowledge that the SWAMP was founded by this northerner, who left his tribe in search of those who might join his fight for the wetlands. He stands before you this day.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Ulduk!” exclaimed Samar. “This is the Ulduk Penney? Impossible! Ulduk lived two hundred years ago. Now there are two aliens who claim to be ghosts!”

  The room was swept into uproar, and the reed walls trembled as the occupants split into sides and argued. Neb pulled Ulduk aside. “Are you really as old as he said? How can that be?”

  Ulduk shrugged. “Of all people, why do you doubt? Did you not make the same claim a moment ago?”

  “Well, yes, but no one believes me. I don't even believe it myself; I think everyone is lying about what year it is.”

  “Has not the world changed?” said Ulduk. “The cities, the speech, this nation? Such change did not happen overnight.”

  “I know, I know. That’s why I came here. I have nothing left. This was my last chance to reclaim a piece of my life, for I sold everything I had (little as it was) in order to get the gear needed to make that fateful trek through the swamp. I made it through alive, but a series of strange events prevented me from claiming the reward until now, apparently two hundred years later. Only you seem to believe me. Did you know who I was, or why did you follow me here?”

  “I have been meaning to return to this cathedral, but my time in this city has been spent with the tribal leaders on matters concerning the nation of Atakala. When you stopped by the city hall asking where the Society for the Preservation and Admiration of Wetlands met, I overheard, and my interest was caught by the fact that you used an older name for our group, one I have not heard spoken since the earliest days of the society, and only among the northern tribes. I also found it odd that a northerner sought the wetland society, instead of meeting with the mayor and tribal leaders as your Atakalan peers have been doing. I have been away for some time, but this society is my true home and I have the authority to reward you if you did indeed pass through a swamp as you described. So tell me, do you have any witnesses or proof of this trip? And how did you survive, when so many others have tried and failed? Tell your story and all shall listen and judge.”

  Neb described his harrowing trip through Sped Swamp hundreds of years ago, with the flying boulders, attacking caimans, and strange digditcher named Smith. He spoke with such passion, and the story was so strange, that the Arush warmed up to him and there was not one in the room who did not agree that he deserved a hundred cattle if not for his brave hike through the swamp, then for being such a good storyteller. Despite the fact that he kept emphasizing how terrible, awful, and frightening swamps are, the Arush were thrilled to hear a good swamp story, especially from a northerner, whose swamp stories typically went something like: 'I thought about going near a swamp the other day. But then I changed my mind.’ The fact that Ulduk had apparently returned and was in favor of granting the reward made it all the more secure, and the next day, Neb was the proud owner of a herd of one hundred live, though slightly malnourished and discontent, cattle.

  Over the next few months, the leaders of the Atakalan regions (for Atakala had been divided into separate states in rough accordance with the original tribes) met with the chiefs of the southern tribes to discuss their differences. Ulduk acted as an intermediary, creating a compromise plan in which the two could maintain separate governments while working together in peace and trade. Thus, the Free Lands Contract, or more commonly “Ulduk’s Proposal”, was signed on the last day of the rainy season of 476 A.D. It called for a line dividing Atakala into two parts. To the north, the nation of Atakala proper continued to rule as it had for centuries. The southern part, however, was classified as The Free Lands. Each southern tribe maintained a completely separate government from Atakala and from each other, the only major conditions being free trade, open borders, and above all, unconditional peace.

  Ulduk stayed in Oortou, requesting a lowly post in the SWAMP, where he continued his lifelong dream of researching bogs.

  Neb sold his cattle, using the proceeds to travel back to Sentinel City and purchase a house near the library. He spoke often with Pablu the historian about the ages past, until one sunny day when there was a knock on the door of the library. It was King Zartro the Tenth.

  “Uh, Neb, at last I found you. I tried your house, but the neighbor said you’d be here. Dah reason I came was 'cause of how you were telling me that you think you're Neb… you know, the real Neb…”

  “I am the real Neb.”

  “Er, yeah. Anyway, I've been thinking about things, and talking about it with Corran and Joao, and you know, Atakala was founded with three kings, and Neb is one of them. I’ve always felt a little strange that both Jaw and Zartro’s descendents have had chances to rule over the years, but never a descendent of Neb. What’s more, it’s a fair amount of work to rule the kingdom, and to be honest, I'd like to have more time to do things I enjoy, like camping and baking pies. So I was thinking, since you're so similar to Neb–”

  “I am Neb.”

  “Right, I was wondering if maybe you wouldn't mind co-ruling with me? I asked Joao, but he wants to continue his weapons research. But worse, every time I hear the old stories, I think of you and feel guilty. Who knows? Maybe you really are Neb. Kingship could be yours just as much as it is mine. I'd like to make that right.”

  At once Neb felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him, as if everything was at last working out. His entire life, he had been late for things or in the wrong place at the wrong time. But he had stood on the peak of Mount Sped with a mysterious red brick in his hand, and dreamed of this moment. At last his life would have purpose. At last he could work to carry on the vision of peace and strength he'd seen atop Mount Sped between bouts of screaming “42”. At last, he would rise to be the person an odd looking statue said he was: Neb, one of the first three kings and founders of Atakala. As he talked with Zartro and Pablu, they wandered outside to look at the statue of Neb, shining brilliantly in the sun as if it were brand new and not hundreds of years old.

  “It sure is something,” said Zartro. “How much those three changed this land. It could have been anyone who found those bricks, I guess, but I'm sure glad it was them.” He looked over at Neb, squinting, then back to the statue. “My gosh, you really are him, aren't you?”

  “I am.”

  “Well then, I'm glad it was you. And Ulduk had some crazy tale about you escaping a swamp through a fountain? He claims to be hundreds of years old too, you know. You'll have to tell me all about your adventures. But first, will you accept the crown?”

  Neb pointed to the bronze crown atop the head of the statue and smiled. “I never took it off.”

  In 476 A.D., Rome fell.

  A year later, a convoy of carts bearing gifts of treasure arrived at the gates of Sentinel City with the following message: To that great and powerful nation of Atakala, that they may remember our gifts and keep us in their favor. We have heard of your ever increasing might, and hope that if we meet again, it will be a meeting of peace and friendship.

  P.S: Thanks for the dynamite! Rome fell in scarcely a week!