Adrian's Amble

This follows on from Adrian's Quest.

Adrian left the city through the western gate – unceremoniously nicknamed ‘the armpit’ by the populace. Around here was the farmland that was so desperate for something to grow. Sir Adrian, being the upstanding gentleman he was, ‘donated’ a considerable amount of gold to one of the farmers to make it easier to tell him in which direction he could travel to make it through the forest.

‘See,’ said the farmer, pointing at a tree that looked no different from any others. ‘Along that path and you should be at the swamp. I suppose that beyond it are the mountains.’

‘But there is no path!’ said Adrian.

‘You have to squint just right to see it,’ the farmer said.

In here the trees were so close together that only a weak, tea coloured light penetrated the canopy. The only thing he could be sure of was that he was moving away from the city. As afternoon turned into dusk, Adrian began to understand why this wasn’t the Happy Bunny Forest. Owls hooting in the distance, and a wolf’s howl once darkened his mood to an idle apprehension. He came to a small clearing – or at least what amounted to one, it was barely four metres across – where a patch of spinach wavered in the night breeze. Obviously puzzled, but still wary, Adrian bent down to grab some. The spinach shrunk away into the ground like a crab at the beach. When he stood up, the spinach popped up again several steps away. He went to grasp it and yet again it was sucked back into the dirt. Looking over his shoulder, the patch had now reappeared on the other side of the clearing.

‘Third time’s a charm.’ He dived for the ground and snatched the tip of the plant as it went away. There was a ripping sound and a screech. Something tapped his shoulder. Slowly Adrian turned around and saw, noting that it hadn’t been there before, a large willow tree with two knots on the front. The branches above gave the impression of it frowning. The thing on his shoulder was another limb. He casually pushed it away, but a large groaning creak from within the tree made his eyes widen with fear.

‘Oh. No.’ The tree reached out with its branches, but Adrian was no longer there. He ran and ran, trees ripping at the cloak covering his chain mail, boughs glancing off of his pauldrons. All of a sudden the most horrible stench reached his nose and he realised he must have been nearing the swamp. Up ahead was a cliff side with a well-worn door in it. He dodged the last irate tree and clambered inside.

There was a sweet aroma in the air. Perhaps it was just more desirable than the pong of the “flatulent” swamp. He pulled out a match from his breastplate and struck it on something. He couldn’t see a cave at all, but the interior of what he imagined looked like a gingerbread house of all things. He took a step forward and a tile in the floor moved. The walls around him began to lower. Bubbling up was stinking ooze. He tried the door and it didn’t budge. He began to frantically bash on the walls and windows but to no avail. The whole place was sinking into the swamp and Adrian had no way out.