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Shaken but unharmed, you wade out to the boat where Prarg helps you aboard.

'That was too close for comfort,' says Prarg, as he struggles to free the oars and set them in place.

'You can count yourself lucky to have escaped with your life. The first time I navigated these channels I lost three good men in a Gorodon attack. Those beasts are the bane of this accursed place . . . yet, t'is true to say, there are other creatures here that are far deadlier.'

Using the oars you soon reach the west bank where, once safely ashore, you encamp on a strip of frozen loam that overlooks a bleak expanse of marsh. Night has fallen and so, too, has the temperature. From the shelter of your upturned boat you cast your experienced eye across the darkening skies and see banks of cloud, heavy with snow, scudding the distant horizon. They are an unwelcome sight, the precursors to a winter storm.

Prarg volunteers to continue the first watch but, mindful that his need for rest is greater than yours, you insist that he gets some sleep. For four hours you sit and scan the bleak horizon, your mind filled with unanswered questions about the mission and the dangers you have yet to face. While you ponder what awaits you in the near future, you remain watchful and alert, your encounter on the east bank still vivid in your mind. Fortunately, the increasing cold dissuades the Hellswamp's inhabitants from leaving their lairs this night and your watch passes without incident.

Then the time comes for you to awaken Prarg. With a noticeable lack of enthusiasm he takes his turn while you settle yourself down to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep.

Turn to 327.

Text copyright © 1991 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1991 Brian Williams.