No sooner than he started to separate the black mass, more yellow eyed ribbons began exiting their nest. First it was a few, but the numbers of oily creatures appearing at the edge of his field of vision quickly multiplied. A few flitted this way and that around them but just as fast as he could cut, the eels began to circle and block his view. At first, they only seemed to hinder his progress by swirling about to stir the murkiness and hinder his vision. Even with the light of the gel to guide him, when their tails kicked up the ink, Morell’s visibility dropped to nothing. Glimpses and flashes of his work found a way to shine through, but it was still slow going. He was making steady progress when the pucker of his pursed lips warned him it was time to go. Reluctantly, he unclamped his knees from the rock and slipped away to rise toward the leafy diving bell ten feet away.

  “Hwwuuuuuuuuuuuuaaah!” he gasped as his head broke the surface of the bubble. Stifled coughs followed in pairs until he finally caught his breath. His feet paddled to keep him within the pocket. Vibrations found his fingertips as he touched the sticky leaves. The Brambillions were talking to him so he pressed his ear against the plant to hear better.

  “Sheruttfrumburthiggggelditch.” The leaves hummed to ask him if the task was complete. Morell in turn pressed his lips against the leaves.

  “Brrrrriisssshheeelltheengiifffss.” He replied. Two big breaths came and went before he took the biggest yet and dunked himself back into the deep. It took longer to get back to the bottom without the stone to sink his weight. The water seemed colder now as if his fear had chilled the water itself. Long sweeping strokes of the arms got him back where he needed to be, and he clamped his legs around the stone a second time. More clouds of oily ichor began to weep from the base where he’d cut it before. He wafted it away in an attempt to continue but no sooner had he dispersed the outer cloud, the eels were back upon him, circling, circling, one sinister eye on him at all times. He gripped the base again and continued cutting as fast as he could without slicing his own hands. The consistency of the base was cuttable but hearty like pumpkin rind. Already the need for air making its presence felt far too soon.

  The blade sliced on and Morell kept yanking chunks free from the trunk. Two handfuls, three. His chest grew tighter and out of desperation he picked up one foot and planted it against the base. With a groan he pulled with all his might to pull it free. Streams of bubbles forced their way through gritted teeth as he strained to pull even a tenth of the tubes free. For his effort he was granted nothing. He cursed the icky plant and set to cutting again. But as he set to his work the tubes shifted and more of the eels emerged. Whipcrack tails propelled them about to surround him, each making their presence known but keeping just out of reach. Another chunk fell away as the urgency in his chest grew even more. He thought he might be sawing and hacking forever without making any real progress before one of the tubes crunched like celery in his hands and detached.

  To his amazement, the tube broke completely free and began to drift higher and higher toward the surface. The destruction of one tube encouraged him and he was about to reach for a second base when he took another harsh slap to the head followed by another. Morell kept hold of the plant with one fist and tried to swat at his attackers with his knife. The blade never struck home but it scattered them enough for a few seconds that he thought he could continue on.

  That’s when they swarmed.

  Just as Morell was about to turn and head back to the air bubble, all the eels came at him at the same time. There was no time to react before his entire field of vision was blocked by racing ribbons of eyes and teeth. He tried to bat them away but their tiny jaws and razor-sharp teeth were already upon him. Worse than any insect sting or bite of a horsefly, the nips of the eels cut him on any place where the flesh might be exposed. They bit his hands, his arms, shoulders, flanks and thighs as the knife slashed blindly in every direction. When rational thought managed to push through the blind panic, he found his footing and his legs launched himself upward. The eels didn’t relent as he retreated, they continued to circle him, biting and latching themselves onto his skin. Morell sailed past the trapped air bubble and rocketed toward the surface. The scream from the pain was already pushing its way past his lips as he broke through.

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  “Aaaauuuggghhh!” he cried, his arms flailing and slapping at the rock edge to get out as fast as possible. Atticus and Loxo jumped in surprise at his return but upon seeing the eels attacking him quickly gathered their senses and scrambled to yank him out. A few of the eels were still latched onto him, the flicking of their bodies and tails making their bites worse as they contorted. Morell kicked and yanked at the eels before the man calmed him.

  “If you pull at them, they’ll just tear the skin, my boy. Let me help.”

  “Get them off!” Morell seethed. “Get them off!” Atticus set to work by slipping his dagger into the mouth of the first eel. A twist of the blade caused the jaws to separate the teeth from his flesh. Once loose, Atticus clutched the eel by its tail and whipped it about to smash its head against the rocks. It twitched and spasmed, but the concussive force of the slam would finish it off soon enough. Another had latched onto the pudge of fat around Morell’s waist. The boy tried to keep still as the pain shot though him. Seeing his distress, Loxo ran to his side and took his hand.

  “Hold on, Morell.” The pirate said with a confident smile. “Crafty Atticus will have these nasties free in no time!” The soldier fulfilled the prophecy by slipping the blade between the jaws of the flank biter and twisted the blade. Eel jaws separated, tiny inward facing teeth surrendering their prey against their will. Like the first of its brood, it quickly found its head being smashed on the edge of the pool.

  “Hold tight, boy.” Atticus snorted. “One left.” The remaining eel had clamped tight on the inside of Morell’s right thigh and looked to have no intentions of letting go. Atticus skilled hand slipped the blade in nice and easy before forcing the jaws wide. Once free it tried to slither back to the safety of the water before being snatched and smashed in the same manner as the rest. “What are you doing messing with eels, boy? Atticus asked as he spied the strange black ooze on his hand before attempting to wipe it off upon the ground.

  “They’re the blight!” Morell revealed to them as he peeled off his gelmet. “They’re not normal eels. There’s something about their nest that’s caustic. That blackness that’s on your hand left over from them. Wash it off, quickly! It’s a poison to its habitat and everything it touches!”

  “Then you’ve been poisoned as well!” exclaimed Loxo. “We have to find medicine and a healer!”

  “We can’t go yet…” Morell grunted painfully as he pushed himself up. Each of the teeth marks wept a continuous line of blood where they’d punctured the skin. “The nest is still down there and if it isn’t removed then the Brambillions will never be well.”

  “We don’t owe these vegetables a thing.” Atticus hissed in his ear. “We should tell them we did our best and order them to take us to the edge of the bog.”

  “But that would be a lie.” Morell said with a pained expression as a hand felt the wound at his side and smeared blood across the rest of the skin. “I know how to get rid of the nest. I know what I need to do.”

  “Those nasties are just waiting for you to try again.” Loxo said. “If you go back down there they’ll take more chunks out of you.”

  “I know how to beat them now. I know their weakness.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it after what they just did.” said Atticus

  “What will you do?” asked the pirate.

  “I’ll…” The boy paused as he grimaced and blinked his eyes to deal with the pain. “I’ll pull the whole nest at once.”

  “How will you do that?” asked Loxo.

  “I’ll have our hosts help me.” He said before looking up at the closest plant being standing over them. If the eels have an advantage in the water, then I’ll have to take that from them. “Sheltith in pin betchel pith!” he shouted. The Brambillions responded with a curious gesture and moved closer to him. “Shhhhuuurrijnnth jelllurregthh iffftepp!” For a moment there was a pause of silence before the Brambillions began to move.