Martin pulled upward. Snakefish secured himself, and called, “I can make it easily. Show yourselves, you two below. I’ll loop my bottom coils around you and lift you up with me.”

Log-a-Log and Gonff stood clutching each other, their eyes shut tightly as they felt themselves enveloped in steely coils and lifted effortlessly.

* * *

Marshgreen and his toads loomed out of the cottony mists. Three of them waddled forward, trying to capture Dinny as the mole flayed about with heavy digging claws.

“Gurr, ’ee doant cum near oi, sloimy toadbags,” he warned.

Deathcoil and Whipscale noticed too late the net fastened at the edge of the Screamhole. Martin came leaping over the edge, loosing stones from his sling, fast and accurate. He bounced a rock off Marshgreen’s head, knocking him flat.

Gurgling screams of horror greeted the next arrival from the pit. The head of Snakefish appeared, dripping like some primeval monster from the abyss, slitted eyes and white rows of teeth confronting the terrified assembly.

“Toadflesh!” With a bunching serpentine motion, the slayer of the swamps pulled himself clear of the pit, shedding his passengers in the same movement.

Gonff and Log-a-Log sprang up, battling despite their bruised ribs. Pandemonium took over as Snakefish struck like a thunderbolt into the nearest group of toads. Regardless of tridents and firefly lanterns, the giant eel went about the business of satisfying his immense hunger.

Martin turned away, sickened by the grisly spectacle.

“Are you all right, Din?” he called anxiously. “Quick, Gonff, Log-a-Log. Let’s get out of here right now.”

Gonff stared wildly into the mists. “Aye, but which way, matey?”

“Hoo arr, this’n ’ll show ’ee.” Young Dinny had a fierce headlock on the groggy Marshgreen.

Martin grabbed a trident and poked the toad Chief.

“Good mole, Din. Come on, you. Lead the way due west, or I’ll stick you on this oversized dinner fork and feed you to Snakefish.”

Marshgreen waddled off pleading mournfully, “Krrgloik! Mousefur notkill Marshgreen, showyou waytogo.”

* * *

In a short space of time they were blanketed on all sides by a mist so heavy it drowned out even the far-off squeals of Snakefish’s victims.

Log-a-Log watched the green bulk of the toad waddling ahead. “Well, at least he seems to know which way to go. What’s next in your rhyme, Gonff?”

Without hesitation Gonff reeled off Olav Skyfurrow’s lines,

O feathered brethen of the air,
Fly straight and do not fall,
Onward cross the wet gold flat,
Where seabirds wheel and call.

Martin prodded Marshgreen lightly with the trident. “Do you know that place?”

The defeated toad Chief turned, blinking his eyefilms. “Krrploik! Notfar notfar, shorebad, seabird eatyou eatme.”

Martin leaned on the trident. “Oh, stop moaning, Greenbottom. We’ll let you go when we’re free of this mist. Though it’s more than you deserve.”

* * *

Eventually they reached a clear running stream. They drank some water while Dinny dug up edible roots.

“Gurr, rooten. They baint no deeper’n ever pie, no zurr.”