Winter's Rising
Page 34
“What are you talking about, ancient one?”
“He borrowed my wife’s shoes once. Now, get on my yacht and let’s get going.” He latched on to my arm with a strength I wouldn’t have thought possible from a man half his age. He left little to doubt that I was getting on. When we reached the other side he seemed to have forgotten I was even onboard or what he was doing on the far side of the river. He scratched his head and looked back the way we had come. He jumped when I spoke.
“How much do I owe you?”
“For what?
“For safe passage across the river. What do I owe you?”
That clarity once again washed away the daze of age the man was under. “Consider it repayment for a debt I will never be able to truly recompense.”
“You make no sense. You owe me nothing.”
“Perhaps not you, maybe not your father, but somewhere down that path of ancestors, I definitely owe. Good luck, Reikel.”
I had hopped off and taken two steps to turn. John, or whoever he was, had already traveled yards away, pulling himself quickly back to the other side. “Wait, I never told you my name!” I shouted.
He turned, smiled and waved. “Ever been in a helicopter?” he called out. Then he went back to pulling himself across.
“That is most definitely going in the journal, although I don’t think anyone is going to believe it.” I was just shaking my head as the man diminished in the distance.
West of the river was nearly devoid of humanity. Most villages I encountered were barely settlements and wanted nothing to do with a traveler. People here were different, mistrustful, more guarded. There had been no open hostility towards me, but that was only because I promised to keep moving. I’d had to trade an extra shirt for a loaf of bread at a place called Nedford. They used nothing that resembled currency there.
Ever west I traveled, if not for my journal I would have lost count of the days. The flat wasteland of the plains was home to no one, save the furtive creatures of the desert. It was hard to imagine that at the far side of this land I would encounter an ocean so vast it could not be crossed. Dust threatened to choke my lungs; I had to tie fabric across my face. I mostly sustained myself on dried beef and cactus water. As the days drifted on, I forgot the reason I’d had for putting myself through this hardship. To what end? This was not an adventure–this was a struggle for survival.
Still I plodded on, ever forward. At first I thought it was a trick of the clouds or my eyes, but the farther I traveled the more real it became. A range of mountains rose in the distance; the height and breadth of which I’d never seen in the East. Those I’d thought were peaks were gentle bumps in the landscape compared to what lay ahead of me. Then animals; great herds passed by on the landscape, hundreds of them, bison most likely. They were far off and I would not get to them before the night. Tomorrow, though, I was going to eat fresh meat. I strung my bow, stoked a fire and lay down to get some rest. Tomorrow’s journey would change everything I had ever known in my entire life.
At sunrise, the herd had moved to graze farther west. From my vantage point it appeared that they were at the base of a line of foothills. Where that meat on the hoof went, I was going to follow. My mouth was salivating at the prospect of what I could be roasting over an open fire tonight. Hopefully it would curb the debilitating homesickness that had been creeping up on me these last few weeks. The large animals seemed to be on their own journey; they just kept moving. It was rapidly approaching midday, and I’d only halved the distance between us. It had been my desire to already be dressing out an animal by now. I’d gone up one side of a small mound and down the other before I was finally within range of the magnificent beasts. I drew my bow and loosed my arrow. I had been aiming at a smaller one, knowing full well that I could neither eat nor carry the meat from a larger animal; I did not want to waste such bounty.
I had been so fixated on the younger bison I had not noticed the large male at all, at least until he crossed the flight path of my arrow. The razor-sharp tip hit and passed through the heavy mass of muscle on his back. He never paused as he cried out in warning. The entire herd took flight.
“Dammit,” I muttered. I was bone-weary from my pursuit and now it appeared as if I was going to have to go even farther for my meal. It was then I saw the tall, thin towers from a mile away. I figured them to be just another remnant from the old ways when man’s influence on the world had been much greater than it was now. I didn’t think much about them, at least until I got closer. The bison had passed through them in a southwesterly direction, and I was about to follow until I saw her. At first I figured her for a mirage and nearly laughed at my maddened state. I hadn’t seen another human being in a month, if my journal was correct, and I’d certainly never seen anyone as beautiful as her...ever. She was in a large green field, dotted with bright white and yellow flowers, her long, pale hair caught in the breeze and was swirling around her head. She had been watching the buffalo pass her by no more than three hundred or so yards away, and then her gaze had shifted to me as I came into view. I was staring at her, my mouth agape.
She turned to look behind her, I thought she was going to flee, but she held her ground as I came closer. Each step I took redefined the depth of her beauty, and even then I questioned whether she was human or of another world. High cheekbones framed a narrow face. Her straight nose tilted just slightly up above a full set of lips and delicately pointed and cleft chin. She was tall and slender, her stance spoke of natural grace and agility. I thought again perhaps she was ethereal; after all, Michael had written about beings too beautiful to be of this world. Maybe he hadn’t been falsifying that after all.
“Stop!” she cried, holding her hand up. It wasn’t the cry of the fearful, at least not for herself. She seemed to be concerned for me as if somehow my life were in danger. I looked around, thinking maybe I was on the verge of a precipice I had missed while I had been so focused on her. There was nothing, so I moved forward. Her face went from alarm to confusion, then relaxed as I came closer. She looked to the towers bordering my right and left, then held my gaze with her beautiful eyes as I approached. My hunger, my pain, my weariness, my desire to be home…all of it was burned away as I looked upon a vision I did not deem myself worthy to see.
“My name is Hope,” she told me.
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