“What are they doing?” asked Atticus.

  “They’re going to use their leaves to trap air under the water and then hold it there below the surface, so I don’t have to keep coming all the way back up every time I need a breath. I heard a story once about people who live on the coast who did the same thing to collect shells from the bottom of the sea. They did it with an overturned boat instead of leaves.”

  “My boy, you are as odd as you are brilliant. Let’s get you in the water.” Once he was prepared, Atticus followed him over to the edge of the pool where Morell sat down, picked up a twenty pound rock and scooted off the ledge. Ripples expanded out in every direction as he paddled to reach the leafy dome. With a big breath he ducked under and vanished. Atticus watched anxiously for a moment or two before the Brambillions started their raspy chattering amongst one another. When they stopped, they all leaned over the pool and pressed the dome far into the depths. So strange it was to see how these “things” lived and talked. He wondered what was taking place below the surface before remembering what Morell had shown him. He pulled another jar from the boy’s pack and held the bottom just below the surface to watch what was happening. Clear as day, he saw Morell far emerging from his leafy dome with a light atop his head. The silhouette swam over to where a large black blotch covered a sizeable portion of the bottom.

  “What are you doing?” Asked Loxo, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up.

  “Go back to your sleep. I’m watching the boy.”

  “Morell? What’s he doing?”

  “He’s doing something to try and get us out of this bog, pirate.” He said, holding the jar for the man to take and nodding at the water. “It’s far more than I could say about you.”

  “I can be plenty of help, if I’m included.” Loxo said, taking the jar and holding to watch the events below. “No need to be short with a man just because he’s a bit tired.” he huffed. “Honestly. Oh! Would you look at that. He’s all the way down there at the bottom. Whatever is he doing?”

  “If you had been listening instead of running around in circles yelling about rainbows maybe you’d know. These plant creatures say there’s something in the depths tainting them and keeping them weak. Morell is attempting to get rid of whatever it is in exchange for us being shown the exit.”

  “Oh, well alright then.” Loxo said casually as he got up and handed the jar back to Atticus. “It sounds like the boy has everything well in hand. He’s a bright one, that Morell. Quite scholarly! He could be a lord or something grand if given the right tutelage.” He said with his arms wrapped about his knees while rocking back and forth on his behind. “I’d do it myself of course but I’m oh so busy these days. What about you, Atticus? Why not take the boy under your wing and show him worldly ways?”

  “Me? What do I know of boys? If he knows how to wipe his nose and ass, then I don’t know what else I’m supposed to tell him.”

  “You could take him on as an apprentice. A squire or something, yes? You could educate him on the ways of swordplay and trapping animals for food.”

  “He’s fed us more with his knowledge of the spore and shroom AND he carries a magical mace that can fell a full-sized tree in a single blow. There’s not much I think I could teach him.”

  “Yes, well, it’s just a thought I suppose.” rocked Loxo “How is our brave underwater adventurer faring down there?”

  “I’d be able to watch and tell you if you’d stop yapping me and be quiet.” Grumbled Atticus. “Gum flapping pirate.”

  Meanwhile, down in the depths of the pool, Morell took one last big breath before dipping below the bubble of trapped air held by the Brambillions. Lower and lower he sank holding the rock against his chest, murkiness parting as the glowing gel atop his head illuminated the area around. His gel helmet clamped around his head, holding the jars in place. Minus a little disorientation from the curvature of the glass Morell was able to see everything. And no sooner that he was ten feet from the bottom the blight that had plagued the Brambillions came full into view. An oily patch of blackness pulsed and swayed along a crevice that ran the entire length of the floor. His feet touched down to create silent of sediment. Curious about the darkness he trod close to examine it. He clung harder to the rock and fished out the knife without taking his eyes off it. One step, two steps, three. He was almost upon it, and as he approached, the sight of it alone made him shiver with fear. With grim resolve he tightened his grip on the stone and knife and ventured closer on heavy steps he couldn’t take fast enough. The blotch seemed almost alive as it swelled and swayed from the ripples he created. Morell wanted so much to leave this place but with his fate and that of his friends and the survival of the Brambillions hanging in the balance, he could not help but sally forth. The blotch seemed to leech its oiliness like an infected wound spreading its disease. If he weren’t holding his breath already, he would’ve held it just the same for fear of breathing in its causticness. And as he drew even closer, he caught glimpses of what looked like things slithering this way and that just beneath the veil of the cloud.

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  I will be strong. I will be strong for Atticus and Loxo…for the Brambillions.

  Fearful but attempting to be brave, he drew ever closer to the blotch leeching its sickness. He wanted to leave. he wanted to flee, but one foot ahead of the other he advanced toward it. Upon closer inspection, the blotch revealed an outline of what lay beneath. It was a plant of sorts; an interconnected clumping of long tubes jutting from a crevice like a twisted and perverted blossom. He waved his hand with the knife in it across his body to try and get the cloud to disperse. As soon as the cloud followed the waft of his hand and shifted away from the cluster, he found a sight that awoke a new fear within.

  Eels.

  The tubes weren’t cylindrical fronds of any kind but eel tubes! The glow of the gel atop his head only compounded the frightening scene. Its luminescence made the piercing yellow and black eyes of the dozens of eels sticking their heads out seem all the more sinister. He approached and they all looked right at him, opened their maws to begin baring rows upon rows of sharp teeth. Closer he moved, closer. The base of the tubing looked to be the culprit as it was the part perpetually leeching the oily ooze. If he could find a way to detach it from the floor of the pool, then he’d have a chance of removing it and dragging it to the surface. Half a minute had passed. The suppressed urge to take a breath began to make to make its presence known as his chest and throat tightened a little.

  I must be swift.

  Dozens of eerie yellow eyes tracked Morell as he moved. When he was within a few paces the first of the eels exited its tube and began swimming in his direction. Slick slithering made its’ glide through the water look effortless as it shot like an arrow straight at his head. He dodged to the right just in time for its tail to smack the left side of his head. It was a light smack and by the time he had a chance to look for where it had gone, it had already doubled back and lunged a second time. He was slower to react this time and the creature collided dead on with his temple. The gel softened the blow but it was a solid strike all the same. It glided out a few feet and twisted back to come in again. It was almost upon him when the knife he’d pulled from his waist met it at the mouth and slashed it the length of its body.

  A dark cloud of blood erupted from the wound and it skittered away. Morell’s sights then fell to the cluster of tubes and multitude of yellow eyes still watching his every move. The pressure to breathe grew a little more and hurried on with the task at hand. With so many eyes upon him, he dropped to his knees and clamped the rock between his legs at the crook behind the knee to anchor himself. One hand grasped a fistful of the plant’s base while the other began to saw at it with a desperate ferocity. The consistency of the tubes was unusual, the blade cleaving the roots in uneven slashes, mashing them more than cutting.