by Randy Nargi
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re the only one on this deck besides me who’s just standing around not doing anything.”
The stoney expression didn’t change. “Not my job to mess with the boat.”
“What is your job, then?”
“Make sure you don’t die.”
Bander understood. The guy was a guard. The big knife at his belt should have been a clue, although sailors use knives too. Ropes need to be cut from time to time. And fish gutted.
“In truth,” Fenrue said. “My job is to make sure Talessa Kreed doesn’t die. Then you three. Then the men, I suppose.”
“And what’s the top threat?”
Fenrue shrugged. “Human threat? I’d say bandits. Non-human? Probably river boar.”
It had been a long time since Bander had encountered a river boar. They were large, aggressive animals that lived by river banks and would lay half submerged in wait of prey. The big ones could get as long as twenty feet and weigh several thousand pounds. And they could run as fast as a horse over short distances.
“What do you do about them?”
“Do? Stay clear. That’s the best thing. They don’t like deep water, so the biggest danger is when we go ashore.”
That made sense.
“And what about bandits?”
“Only the dumb ones would try anything. See that pennant?”
Bander looked up. The boat was flying a blue triangular flag with a jagged design in gold. It kind of looked like a lightning bolt.
“What does that mean?”
“That’s Talessa Kreed’s crest. Everyone in the Territories knows it. And the smart ones keep their distance.”
Bander looked out on the river. Their boat had cleared Malverton’s harbor and was now drifting downstream. Dozens of other watercraft swarmed around them. Most were smaller skiffs.
The three sailors pulled lines and unfurled sails, and within a quarter hour, The Calibis was sailing downriver at a good clip.
Bander returned to the cabin where Valthar, Eton Sward, and Talessa Kreed were deep in conversation about Rodan Scarfin Burritch.
“Admittedly, it has been some years since I read Travels,” Talessa Kreed said. “But I was fairly sure he mentioned that the temple was fairly difficult to find.”
“You may want to refresh your memory, madam,” Eton Sward said. He reached into his satchel and withdrew his copy of the book and gently slid it towards her.
Talessa Kreed’s eyes widened. “Are you addled, bringing a rare book like this on the river? This should be in a museum.”
“It is well protected,” Eton Sward said. “Besides, we may need it as a reference. Would you care to re-read it?”
“Of course I would!”
Bander stretched out on one of the bunks while the other three continued their discussion. It sounded like Talessa Kreed was as much as a history buff as Valthar and Sward.
After a few hours, Bander got bored and returned up top. It was raining lightly and Fenrue was still standing in the same spot, still gazing off with his stoney expression.
“You want me to spell you?” Bander asked. “You could dry off. Get something to drink.”
“Not your job.”
“I realize that, but I’m offering.”
“I’m fine.”
“As you wish.”
Bander shrugged and walked off to the other side of the ship. He had known plenty of men like Fenrue, not confident enough to graciously accept any offers of help, no matter how small. His loss, though.
The river narrowed here to maybe a quarter mile wide. But the shores were a wall of dense green vegetation. Bander didn’t spot any river boar, but he did see all kinds of other animals, including a crocodile that was half as long as The Calibis, judging by its wake. Brightly colored parrots and other types of birds looked down at them from their perches in the oversized nanheorn trees, and Bander caught a glimpse of what might have been a dark-colored jungle cat slinking through the brush. All in all, it was fortunate that they were traveling by river and not overland. But he suspected that this good fortune wouldn’t last.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The river journey was uneventful. They passed a number of other boats, some heading downriver, some working their way upriver. No one got close and Larandar the pilot did a good job of keeping The Calibis away from sunken logs, snags, and other hazards.
Early on the morning of the second day, the river they were traveling on, the Urfantis, merged with a narrower, faster-moving river. Not long after that, the river emptied into an immense lake that Talessa Kreed told them was twenty-two miles long. Lake Horbadin, it was called. Because the wind was good and the lake was deep and easy to navigate, they nearly doubled their speed.
Towards the end of the day they reached the far southwest shore of the lake—which was where they would leave the boat. Talessa Kreed decided it would be better to spend the night on The Calibis and get an early start, so they dropped anchor a hundred yards offshore, had a substantial dinner of fish and a pale-colored jungle fruit called donyat, and then discussed the next leg of the journey.
“I won’t lie to you,” Talessa Kreed said. “It’s twenty miles or so through the jungle and then maybe another ten in the foothills of the Crantochs. Not an easy trek. Even for younger men than yourselves…” She trailed off.
Valthar said, “Madam, as I have said time and again, this is my life’s work. Nothing shall deter me. If I can’t walk on my own two feet, Bander here will carry me over his shoulder.”
“What about you, Sward?” Bander asked. “I’m not sure if I can carry both of you.”
Eton Sward looked down at the floor, obviously torn. He was easily a hundred pounds heavier than a man his size should be, and it was probably a decade since he had walked anywhere farther than from his cottage to the outhouse. Could he survive a two-day trek through the jungle? Who knew?
“I want to try,” Eton Sward said. “If I slow you down too much, you will leave me and pick me up on the return journey.”
Talessa Kreed raised her eyebrow at that. She didn’t know that Sward was a mage, of course, and could teleport back to Malverton if the journey became too arduous.
“Very well, then, gentlemen,” she said. “I suggest we all retire and try to get a good night’s sleep.”
The next morning, Larandar used a skiff to shuttle them to shore. He had to make several trips. Their group numbered eight in all: Bander, Valthar, Eton Sward, Talessa Kreed, Fenrue, and two sailors—one young and tall, and the other closer to Talessa Kreed’s age but heavyset. Larandar and the third sailor would stay with The Calibis and await the party’s return.
“Well, men, the good news is that there is a trail,” Talessa Kreed said.
“You call this a trail?” Valthar asked.
Talessa Kreed explained that there was a Tengan village several miles to the southwest and this was the route that the villagers used to access the lake.
“It doesn’t run all the way to the mountains, however.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Eton Sward said. “The Tengans have an aversion to mountains. They believe them to be lamat. Unholy.”
“Not exactly, sir,” Talessa Kreed said. “Lamat doesn’t mean ‘unholy.’ It means ‘of the dead.’ The reason they steer clear of the mountains is because that’s where their dead dwell.”
“Indeed,” Valthar said. “More ’sacred’ than ‘unholy,” I’d wager.”
“I stand corrected,” Eton Sward said. “But it doesn’t give me much more comfort to know we are entering the land of the dead.”
They trudged along the narrow path into the misty haze. Above their heads, leaves the size of tavern tables blocked the dim sunlight. Birds and insects swarmed all around, creating a din that Bander never thought he’d get used to.
After an hour or so, the sky started to dump rain, and that made it even more difficult to see.
Bander didn’t mind the weather, but he
could tell that Valthar and Eton Sward were uncomfortable. Their wet clothes stuck to their bodies like a second skin and the mud sucked at their boots greedily with every step.
“Cheer up, lads,” Talessa Kreed said. “A mere twenty-five miles to go, I believe. Thirty at the most.”
Eton Sward groaned.
Normally, on a decently maintained road, Bander could cover that distance in a single day, but this rough track wasn’t a road by any means. But once they got going no one complained. Not Valthar. Not even Eton Sward.
They trudged through the jungle, with Fenrue steering the group clear of anything hazardous. Bander asked him what the most dangerous threats were out here.
“No bandits out this way,” Fenrue said. “Tengans won’t bother us. So I’d say snakes, spiders, red heart monkeys, ragarries—”
“What about the sombo?” Eton Sward asked. The mage’s face was flushed with exertion.
“What’s the sombo?” Bander had never heard the name.
“That’s where the dragon legend came from,” Eton Sward said.
“No,” Valthar countered. “The dragon legend came from the fact that there used to be dragons walking around. And flying around.”
“Delusions!” Eton Sward scoffed.
Fenrue said, “Sombos are rare. They’re large reptiles like crocodiles, but they spend their time on land. As big as a wagon, and you can hear them coming from a mile away. Not much of a threat. We’ll be fine as long as we keep our eyes open.”
At the end of the day, they made camp at a small, rough clearing. While the area looked like it had been used as a campsite at some point in the past, it was now mostly overgrown. Talessa Kreed ordered the sailors to hack the brush back while she set about preparing their meal. Fenrue kept watch as usual.
Bander volunteered for sentry duty, but Talessa Kreed was more comfortable with her own men. They knew the jungle and he didn’t.
“Best get as much rest as you can,” she said. “The way won’t be getting any easier.”
So after dinner, the group set up their bedrolls and went to sleep.
The night passed uneventfully. No one got strangled, bitten, poisoned, or mauled. And within a half hour of rising, they were moving again.
At least it wasn’t raining.
Bander noticed that Valthar was struggling a bit to keep up and was using his walking stick more and more.
“How are you faring?”
“These old joints just take some time to get unstuck. Like a rusty wagon wheel. I’ll be fine.”
After about five miles of slow trudging, they crossed a ridge with low valleys on either side. The mass of green vegetation went on forever to the north, south, and east, but to the west Bander got his first glimpse of the rocky peaks of the Crantochs. They weren’t that far away, of course, but the dense jungle had blocked any view of the mountains until now.
An hour or so later, Talessa Kreed announced that it was time to leave the trail. It was clear that they had been gaining elevation and climbing into the edge of the foothills, and now it appeared they would be venturing directly towards the mountains.
Talessa Kreed sent the two sailors up ahead with their long knives—which were more like backswords—to clear the path. As far as Bander could tell, they had veered a bit to the northwest. By his reckoning it took them three hours to travel a single mile. But at that point, the jungle began to thin and the way became easier.
They stopped several times for Talessa Kreed to get her bearings. She withdrew a spyglass and a notebook from her satchel and peered at various peaks and hills in the distance, all the while checking her notations.
“On course, madam?” Eton Sward asked.
“I believe so. That hill over there—the one that looks like a fist—is a marker. We need to swing around it to the north.”
It turned out to be easier said than done. Twice they lost their way in the ravines and gullies and had to backtrack. Finally, as the sun hung low in the sky, they struggled their way up on to a rocky mesa.
“We camp here for the night,” Talessa Kreed announced. “I thought we might arrive at our destination today, but it’s too late. There are some nasty cliffs up ahead that we won’t want to traverse in the dark.”
“No matter,” Eton Sward said. “The temple has stood for a thousand years or more. It will be waiting there for us tomorrow.”
At some time during the night, Bander snapped awake, heart pounding. He stood up, listening. Something had woken him and he wasn’t sure what.
One of the sailors, the older heavyset man named Chumbold, stood just beyond the glow of the fire. The man held his spear at the ready.
“What is it?” Bander whispered.
“I’m not sure, sir. Could be a ragarry.”
That wasn’t good. ragarries were large nocturnal jungle cats and fearsome hunters.
“We need to rouse everyone,” Bander said.
“No, sir. The commotion might prompt the beast to attack. Best to remain calm.”
Bander snatched up another spear which was nearby and then took up a position across the fire from the sailor. Together they waited.
He stared into the darkness, willing himself to see something—anything. But he couldn’t make out anything. So he stood still and listened.
There was plenty to hear. Mostly insects, but some rustling of smaller animals. The wind was up and blew across the mesa in ghostly swells that sounded like far off whispers.
Bander didn’t mind waiting. He was fully awake now, standing easy, but alert. Ready to swing the spear up if anything charged in from the darkness.
But nothing came at him.
Not during the first hour. Or the second.
“I think whatever was out there is now gone, sir.” Chumbold turned to Bander. “You can go back to—”
And then there was a flash of movement—a blur—as something huge and incredibly fast slammed into the sailor. A moment later, he was gone.
Bander jumped forward, leaping over the campfire. He couldn’t see where the man had gone. He couldn’t see anything. But he heard a low animal sound—halfway between a growl and a cry.
Spear raised, Bander advanced. He was aware of his heart beating. It was steady and normal. Calm even. He breathed deeply and stepped into the night.
Away from the fire, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He thought he saw a large shadow ripple and move. And then he heard what sounded like a body being dragged along the ground.
“Bander! Are you hurt?” It was Eton Sward.
“Ragarry,” Bander whispered. “It took Chumbold.”
“You need light?”
Bander knew what Eton Sward was thinking. A light spell. It would blind any foes and give Bander a fighting chance. But it would also reveal to Talessa Kreed and her crew that Eton Sward was a mage.
Another low growl sounded from the darkness.
Bander made his decision.
“You can’t cast magic bolt, can you?”
“I’m a scholar, not a battle mage,” Eton Sward sniffed.
“Light will have to do then. As bright as you can make it. Ten feet in front of me. Fix on my voice. You need me to keep speaking?”
“No, I have it.”
“On three, then.”
Bander counted aloud. When he got to three, he shut his eyes and clamped his hand over his face for good measure.
There was a popping sound and then a bright light exploded in front of him. Even though Bander had his eyes closed and covered, it was still like looking at the sun.
But it was worse for the ragarry.
As he opened his eyes, he glimpsed the beast crouching on a large boulder, howling in surprise and anger. It was huge. Easily twice as big as Bander with paws the size of serving platters. And by the looks of it, the ragarry was recovering from the bright light much more quickly than Bander hoped.
Bander rushed in just as the creature pounced. Acting purely on instinct, he jammed the butt of the spear in the ground
so the sharp end pointed at the animal. Then the next thing he knew, five hundred pounds of bloodthirsty jungle cat was upon him.
As he slammed against the hard ground with the beast on him, every bit of air was driven from Bander’s lungs and his vision darkened.
Then nothingness.
When he came to, Bander felt like he had been run over by a stampede of cattle. But at least he was alive.
Over him, the faces of Valthar, Eton Sward, Talessa Kreed, and the young sailor hovered in the darkness, illuminated by Eton Sward’s torch.
“I told you he’s a tough old bastard,” Valthar said to Talessa Kreed.
She smiled. “Lucky, I’d say—since we don’t have a healer amongst us. But apparently we do have a mage.” She glanced over at Eton Sward. “Still, you acquitted yourself quite well, Bander.”
“I’ll say!” Eton Sward motioned to Bander’s left with the torch.
Bander turned, somewhat painfully, and saw the jungle cat’s corpse impaled by a broken spear. The animal was huge and black.
“Well done,” Fenrue stepped out of the darkness and extended his hand. Bander gripped it and Fenrue helped him to his feet.
“Not many men can take on a ragarry one on one,” Fenrue said. “Especially a full-grown beast like that.”
“Like the lady said, I got lucky.” Every muscle in Bander’s body ached and it felt like one of his ribs was injured again—bruised if not cracked. Then he caught sight of the blood-drenched corpse of Chumbold, the sailor who had been attacked by the animal. He hadn’t been lucky. The man’s head had been mostly torn from his neck.
“It’s not safe for us to remain here,” Talessa Kreed said. “Scavengers will come. Do you think you can hike?”
Bander took a few tentative steps. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Agreed.”
While the others broke camp, Bander rested against the boulder. He had been lucky. By all rights, he should have been as dead as Chumbold.
The ten minutes went by quickly, and Bander wasn’t feeling much better, but he soldiered on. If Valthar and Sward could keep going, so could he.