Little Orphan Anvil: The Complete Trilogy by Joseph Beekman (best contemporary novels .TXT) 📕
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- Author: Joseph Beekman
Read book online «Little Orphan Anvil: The Complete Trilogy by Joseph Beekman (best contemporary novels .TXT) 📕». Author - Joseph Beekman
As she munched on a small piece of fish, Tabithacontemplated if she would ever reach the Land of Ironand Anvil in time to warn the others of what awaitedthem; she only could only imagine how shocked andheartbroken they would all be to learn what had becomeof Jonathon and Haley, and of the witch’s frightfulreturn.
While Tabitha was lost deep in thought andprayer for Jonathon and Haley’s safety and well-being,a fleeting wisp of light suddenly snapped her attentionback to her surroundings. Cautiously, she waited andlistened. Her heart was beating fast—she knew she hadseen something flash quickly about the darkness! Thento her right, a flurry of tiny lights, no smaller than thatof a mosquito, darted all around her. They swirled in agreat display of dazzling movement before her eyes.
Fireflies! she thought. Thank the spirits! Maythey guide me through this spooky darkness…
With renewed excitement, Tabitha quickly stuffedthe canteen back into the knapsack, and then whisperedaloud to the wisp of fireflies: “Lead me from here; outto safer passage, please!”
Within seconds, the fireflies flashed over herhead in an aerial line. Tabitha turned about fast,watching them glitter away into the distance. Her heartskipped a beat, fearing that they were leaving. But toher surprise they paused in the darkness, seeming towait for her to follow. Without another thought, shegrabbed her knapsack and darted after the tiny lights ofhope.
~ CHAPTER IV
~ The SWAMP BUG
Gray clouds amassed with the heavy threat ofrain as Tabitha trudged along through the dank andswampy marshes of the wilds.
She had left behind the dark forest and thefireflies, only to now be traveling through miles ofswampland with no apparent end in sight. The air waschilled, and she had to continue cinching the frayedcloak that kept loosening around her. A fine layer offog drifted throughout the hazy air, and every so often aloud, thunderous boom would shatter the stillnessaround her.
As Tabitha sloshed her way through the wetbrush and ankle-deep, murky water—her head hunglow as she watched her steps with care—a sing-songsort of whistling noise broke her reverie. She stoppedin mid-stride and brushed a few matted locks of hairfrom her eyes. Squinting her eyes, she scanned themarshy area laid out before her, searching for where thewhistle was coming from and wondering what could bemaking that dreadful noise!
Finally, she noticed a dark form lurking about inthe brush some distance away.
Oh…great, she thought to herself. Now what?
Keeping her eyes focused on the dark formmoving sluggishly in the swampy brush, she continuedforward. The whistle grew a bit higher in pitch as sheapproached, and now she could see its form moreclearly.
Oh no! she thought fearfully. It couldn’t be…
Creeping carefully closer, Tabitha crouched downinto the brush; her eyes peered through the strands ofthick bamboo-like grass, watching as this thing snoopedabout a few feet before her.
And then, as if sensing her nearby, the thing roseupwards and shot a direct glance in her direction.
Tabitha felt her heart catch in her throat, and shefroze. She could not believe what she was seeing—itwas the swamp bug! she realized in great alarm. It wasa thing of childhood terror tales! It stood tall, towering,and lanky, and held an iron pole that had two blades onone end in its hand. It approached in her direction withgreat speed; it’s legs were like that of tree sticks,bouncing freely through the watery gunk of the swamp.
Tabitha remained still, in horrid fear, as it cameto a splashing stop in front of her. A greenish, paleglow pulsed through its finely leathered skin, and itseyes bore into her like great, dark stones—bulbous, redeyes that reminded her of the eyes of a praying mantis,only much larger!
Then, unexpectedly, it grinned and extended itsother free hand down to her—a long-fingered palm,open in a gesture of kindness.
“Come, my youngling, do not fear me,” it spokein a heart-warming, but scratchy tone. “I can see youare lost and in need of help.”
Tabitha startled, her eyes now wide as ever withshock. Knowing she had nowhere else to go now, sheaccepted its hand, and was brought to her feet. Sheimmediately felt a wave of calm flow through her; as ifits energy just flowed into her, bringing a sense ofsafetyand a realization of its true form.
“You—you are human,” Tabitha stated matter offactually to him.
He laughed hoarsely, nodding his misshapenhead. “Yes, young lady, that I am! My name isTinspar,” he said humbly. “And who might you be,young one?”
Tabitha remained silent, giving him a questioningstare.
“Oh, I know what you must think…” Tinsparresumed, seeing she was still dumbfounded by hispresence. “You must be thinking: ‘I am not one for thefaint of heart.’ But I beg to differ…”
Tabitha cocked her head and lifted her brow ininterest.
“Many years ago,” he continued as he scratchedthe top of his flat, elongated head in thought, “I wasmarked as one of a few from the long lost Land ofStars. I was punished for not adopting the dark magicthat the land had come to accept—a magic they hadconsidered as the only way of true sorcery.”
Tabitha listened now with a heartfelt interest ashe told his story. He told her of how a few of the oldwitches who practiced this way of dark magic withinthe Land of Stars had altered his appearance with awicked spell, and thrown him to the wilds of the realm.For years he had wandered between the lands, upsetting, though not meaning too, many who crossed hispath with his bug-like, twisted appearance.
Through the many years, stories about him hadgrown wildly: stories such as the so-called swampcreature, or bog bug, or swamp bug, had formed. Andso the terrible myths of a swamp bug causing mayhemand fear had emerged in many parts of the realm, soonbecoming that of stories told around a campfire.
“But soon, the Land of Stars was destroyed by agreat meteorite shower that fell upon it,” Tinspar
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