by Bruce Leslie
“I’ll follow Flynn and Tracer. You’ll cross last.” The Lump looked at Meena as she stared at the river. “You’re light enough. You’ll just float across like a feather. Now, let’s load Tilley.”
Flynn removed his sword and breastplate and placed them on the bundle of bags he had taken off his horse. The Lump scooped up the items and carried them over to Tilley. He secured the additional cargo to the bags already across the mule’s back.
The Lump led Tilley to the end of the bridge and stopped. “There you go, girl. Now, just go on over. That’s a good girl.” He let go of the mule’s rope and scratched her under the jaw. “Go ahead now.”
Tilley stepped onto the bridge and began walking up the side, she stayed close to the supporting rail. Her hooves thudded against the old wooden beams with a hollow thump. Her black tail swayed back and forth as she made careful steps. The mule took no notice of the occasional sprays of water that touched her flank. When she reached the middle of the bridge a cracking sound rang out. A portion of beam under one of her back hooves fell away. The mule’s hind quarters dipped as one rear leg dropped into the gap. Her loud braying tore through the air.
Meena darted toward the edge of the bridge. “Tilley!”
The Lump put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Hold on, she’ll be fine.”
The mule brayed again. The rear hoof that remained on the bridge scraped at the wood a few times and she retrieved her leg from the gap. Tilley shook her head side to side with a snort, then continued. She neared the end of the bridge and began moving at a faster pace. The mule soon arrived safely on the other side and began to trot down the path.
“Ho now, Tilley! Wait for us girl!” The Lump shouted across the river, his voice louder than the water’s roar. The mule stopped. He looked to Flynn. “Now, take Tracer on across. Be mindful of the gap.” He looked across the bridge, then back to Flynn. “Don’t try to drag the horse across, just lead him gently. They call it horse sense for a reason, Tracer will find his way.” He stepped away from the man and his horse.
“Yes, sir, I will heed your counsel.” Flynn took the horse’s reins in his hand and walked slowly across the bridge. His hair waved in the brisk wind blowing across the bridge. His first steps were trepidatious, but he grew more confident as he traversed the span. He stopped at the middle and inspected the beams beneath him. He looked back at the section of bridge behind him, then continued with his horse to the other side.
When he was safe on the ground at the far side of the bridge he smiled broadly and shouted. “That was not so bad! Not so bad at all!” He stroked the horse’s neck.
The Lump looked at Meena. “See how easy? I’m heading across to Tilley.” He waved at Meena and stepped onto the bridge. “Follow when you’re ready.”
The Lump looked down at the old beams as he stepped across them. Their once sharp edges were smooth and rounded. The surface was pockmarked by the elements, and occasional round, black knots were visible in the old, gray wood. There were slippery green patches along the way from growths of slime. Splinters rose up where hooves had recently stepped and the rushing, white water could be seen beneath the bridge’s gaps. The spray of water would have felt good on a warmer day, but today it was most unpleasant. The wind pressed against his side and smelled like mossy stones. He heard the odd beam creak under his weight, but none of them gave out. The end of the span came closer as he moved forward. At last the solid ground was only a few steps away.
The Lump smiled at his mule as he stepped off the bridge. “Here we go, girl.” He took Tilley’s rope in his hand and started removing the added cargo from Tilley’s back. “Come along now!” He shouted to Meena without turning away from his work.
Meena stepped onto the edge of the bridge. She began to cross with quick and confident steps. She pulled her cloak’s hood over her head to shield it from the cold river’s spray. She reached the spot where the chunk of bridge had fallen away under the mule’s hoof. She stepped to the center of the bridge to avoid it, then stepped back to the support running along the side.
Meena came to an area where an entire beam was missing. She swung her arms and leapt across the opening. When her foot landed on the other side, the wood beneath it squeaked and twisted. She teetered on it for a moment with her arms outstretched for balance. The loose beam fell away into the river below and Meena grasped at the rotten length of rope running alongside the bridge. The weather worn rope snapped in her hand and she fell into the opening. She caught a wooden crossbeam with one hand and dangled over the water. She twisted as the wind blew against her.
The Lump felt his heart jump in his chest. He thought about the story the Solson had told, and worried that Berek’s ghost was trying to claim another victim. He shouted, “I’m coming—”
“No time! Hold tight!” Flynn shoved one end of the rope he carried on his hip at the Lump. He put the other end in his mouth and bit down. With the length of rope suspended from his teeth, Flynn held his hands high over his head and dived gracefully into the unwelcoming water. He disappeared into the river, the rope behind him the only hint of where he was.
Meena tried to raise her free hand up to the beam above her. Her grip on the slimy wood slipped and she plummeted down toward the river. She pressed her arms against her sides and held her legs straight and stiff. She fell into the water straight as a stick. When she hit the river’s surface there was only a tiny splash.
The Lump couldn’t see either figure beneath the white foam churned up by the angry current. His heart raced and his jaws clenched. He watched the rope he was holding dance across the surface of the water. His eyes followed its jerking motions in the center of the river, straining to get a glimpse of his companions. He needed to see something, anything, that let him know they were alive. The rope pulled hard and sudden in his hands. He gripped it tighter and leaned back on his heels with his full weight. He saw Flynn’s arm rise above the water and flail back and forth. The arm disappeared below the surface then appeared again, holding the other end of the rope. Flynn’s head bobbed up and down above the water.
Flynn tucked the rope tightly under his arm. His other arm was wrapped around Meena. He screamed, “Pull! Pull!”
The Lump leaned his heavy body back against the rope and pulled hard. He dragged the rope toward the riverbank, hand over hand, like he was pulling in a giant trout on a line. He watched Flynn and Meena rise up in the water with each of his powerful tugs. When his companions made it to the bank, he ran to the water’s edge and grabbed each of them in one of his big hands. In one mighty tug he plucked them from the water and deposited them on land.
“I don’t think she’s breathing!” Flynn rose to his knees and rolled Meena onto her back. “Lump, she’s not breathing!”
Meena’s eyes were closed and her lips were pale. She wasn’t moving. Her chest didn’t rise and fall to draw in air.
Flynn turned Meena’s head to one side. “She’s swallowed water.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her side to side in quick, rough motions. “Wake Meena! Wake!” He slapped her face in an effort to revive her.
The Lump knelt down beside them. “Maybe if you squeeze her belly you can push the water out.”
Flynn put the heels of his hands of Meena’s stomach and pushed down several times. “It’s not helping. It’s just making a gurgling sound. You try.”
The Lump wrapped his hand’s around her middle and squeezed.
A burst of water sprang forth from Meena’s mouth, followed by coughing. She took several gasps of raspy breath, then opened her eyes. “I think—” She coughed again. “I think I fell.” She raised a hand to her cheek. “Why does my face hurt?”
“Meena, girl, you fell alright!” The Lump’s eyes were big as the moon and his smile was wide. He stood up. “Flynn here was remarkable!” He breathed heavy and looked around to collect himself. His eyelids dropped to their normal position and the smile fell from his face. “I’m sorry, girl. I should have had you ride across on the horse…” He
put his meaty hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. “Sure, I’d like to be rid of you, but not like that.” He opened his eyes and looked at Meena as she lay on the ground. “Girl, can you forgive me?”
Meena looked up at him with a weak smile. “There is nothing to forgive. All is well now.” She coughed in two quick bursts. “You had no way to know what would happen. Your plan was a sound one, and what you genuinely thought was best.” She wiped wet strands of hair away from her face. “I understand our journey is perilous… I came to terms with the risk far before I met you.” She paused for a moment to take several deep breaths. “I tell you this truly, I am not afraid.”
“I believe you.” The Lump smiled again. “Let me get you some blankets. I’ll build a fire so you can get dry.” He beckoned at Flynn. “Come on, you need to get dry too.”
The two men walked to Tilley. The Lump pulled two coarse, cloth blankets out off one of his bags. He asked, “How did you do that?”
Flynn looked at him through thick, wet strands of hair and smiled. “I told you I was the best swimmer in Silverport.”
13: Meena Falls Ill
The Lump held his hand in front of his face and looked up at the sun. He closed one eye and gauged its position in the sky. It was just shy of halfway across, that meant the group had only been riding for about four hours. The path widened into a proper road at this point and allowed the mule and horse to ride abreast. This made communicating easier as everyone didn’t need to keep twisting back and forth to see one another. The day was a good bit warmer than the past two, but that could not be known by Meena’s condition. As the day’s temperature rose, she seemed to grow colder.
Meena had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders while she rode behind Flynn. Under the blanket she wore her heavy cloak with the hood pulled over her head. After the events at the bridge the day before, she had spent the evening getting dry by the fire. At the time she seemed quite well. However, when this day’s ride began, she didn’t seem to be her normal self. She remained mostly quiet, but the clicking of chattering teeth could be heard coming from her from time to time.
“Perhaps we should stop and build another fire.” Flynn addressed the Lump with his question, already knowing that Meena would refuse. “I think we have covered plenty of ground this morning.” He looked over his shoulder at the young lady behind him. “I can feel you shaking back there.” He looked back to the Lump. “Would you like to stop?”
“I suppose you’re right, Flynn.” The Lump twisted in his seat to look at the man riding beside him. “I could boil some water, a couple of steaming bowls of that would warm our bones.”
“It’s not necessary to stop…” Meena paused and drew a few labored breaths. “…I’m fine, we need to keep going.” She was huddled beneath her cloak and blanket.
“Now stop thinking about yourself.” The Lump looked at her, though all he could see was the heavy, green hood pulled over her head. “Tilley here needs a rest every once in a while. We’ve been riding hard for days now, I could use a little rest too.” He stretched his arms out in a feigned yawn.
“I think that settles the matter.” Flynn pulled back on Tracer’s reins and came to a stop at a clearing next to the road. “This looks like a fine spot for some refreshment.” He loosened a pouch of dried fruit from his horse’s saddle.
The Lump brought his mule to a halt next to the horse and slid down to the ground. “Flynn, would you mind attending to the fire?” He pulled his stew pot from a bag and held it out to Flynn. “You can heat some water in this, it’s clean.” He sat the pot on the grass in the clearing.
“Of course.” Flynn raised his leg over the saddle and hopped to the ground. “Here, Meena, let me help you off the horse.” He extended his hand toward her.
“I don’t need any help.” Meena dragged her leg across the horse and began coughing. She remained perched on the rear of the horse to catch her breath.
“Humor my folly. Remember my aspirations to be a hero?” He put one arm around her and took her hand with the other and helped her down. “You feel quite warm for someone who seems cold.” He helped steady her as she walked over to the grass.
“There’s just a chill in the air.” Meena sat on the ground and pulled her knees up under her cloak and blanket.
Flynn gathered wood. He found several small dry twigs to use as starter, and a bundle of larger sticks to grow the flames. He piled the wood neatly in the center of the clearing, next to the pot. He next collected a few branches that were quite thick in order to fuel the fire once it had been built. He piled the twigs in a small pile and struck his flint. A spark flew into the twigs and a small flame rose.
The Lump walked over to Meena and took a seat on the ground next to her. “Why don’t you let me feel your forehead.” He leaned forward a bit and looked over to her.
“What good will that do?” Meena asked in a weak voice. She shivered beneath her blanket.
“To be honest, I’m not sure.” The Lump scratched his chin under his brown beard. “Wendy always seemed to do it when I didn’t feel well, and it always seemed to help.” He pulled the brown sleeve of his coarse, brown tunic away from his big right hand. “How about it?” He held his palm in the air.
“Yes, you may.” Meena raised her head and pulled down the hood of her cloak.
The Lump’s palm swallowed Meena’s brow as he placed it across her forehead. It felt like a freshly boiled turnip. His eyes opened wide and his eyebrows rose. “Jumping jewels on a juggler’s club! You’re on fire!” He brought his hand down from her face. “You’ve taken a nasty fever!”
“I’ll be fine.” She pulled the hood back over her head. “It will pass. I’ve had a fever before.”
Flynn added the larger sticks to the flame. He watched them catch fire, then added two of the thickest branches. He poured water from his skin into the Lump’s pot and placed it over the flame to boil. He sat down on the other side of Meena and watched the pot of water.
“You’re awfully warm. This might not be just any old fever.” The Lump rubbed his head in frustration. “You took a lot of that river water into your lungs. It could have brought a sickness with it.” He placed both of his hands flat against his chest. “I wish that history loving Solson was here.” His hands dropped from his chest.
“I just have a cold.” Meena kept her head down as she spoke. “People take colds all the time.” She rocked back and forth a few times, then held her hands out in front of the fire.
“Please look at me for a moment.” The Lump clasped his hands in front of him. “How’s your breathing?”
Meena pulled down her hood and looked at him. “My breathing is fine.”
The Lump could see that her breathing wasn’t fine. The muscles in her neck pulled with every breath. Her chest rose hard when she inhaled, struggling to pull in the air. “Well, we will get you some hot water and a little bit of food just the same.” He rose and went to his mule to retrieve some fried bread.
Flynn rose and carefully picked up the pot from the fire. Steam rose from a bowl as he poured hot water into it. “Here Meena, this will warm you.” He handed the bowl down to her.
Meena reached forward and took the bowl in both hands. “Thank you, Flynn.” She brought it to her lips and sipped.
The Lump returned to the fireside with a flat piece of bread and offered it to Meena. “Here you go, you need to eat something.” He held it out to her in his hand.
Meena shook her head side to side. “No, thank you. I don’t have an appetite for it right now.” She sipped from her bowl again.
“Come on now.” The Lump lowered himself to the ground and took a seat next to her. “You’ll never find your health eating nothing but hot water.” He held the bread in her direction again.
“I just…” Meena coughed then took another sip from the bowl before continuing. “I just don’t think my stomach can hold any food right now.”
“You need to rest.” The Lump looked away from Meena and to the fire. “
You don’t need to sleep outside tonight. Bleuderry’s not too far away, we could make it to the inn there before dark.”
“No.” Meena raised her head up from the bowl of hot water as she spoke. “We’ve come too far.” She raised the bowl to her lips and sipped from it. “We are too close now to be delayed in Bleuderry.” She cradled the bowl in her hands as it rested atop her knees.
“Meena, I think he is right.” Flynn bit into a piece of dried fruit from his pouch and chewed it.
The Lump looked at the uneaten bread in his hand. “They’ve got a good inn there. You can sleep in a warm room, maybe get some good broth to eat.” He looked over to Meena. “That sounds good don’t it? Your stomach could hold some broth, couldn’t it?” He took a bite out of the cold bread in his hand.
“We have no way to pay for an inn.” Meena only looked at her bowl as she spoke. “Inns aren’t free, in my experience.”
“She does have a valid point.” Flynn looked across Meena to the Lump where he sat, on her opposite side. “I sometimes forget that my silver is gone.” He looked to the ground.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle that.” The Lump looked over to Flynn and smiled. “I do work at a tavern, after all.” He looked back to the fire. “There’s always some kind of work that needs to be done at an inn.” He put the rest of the bread in his mouth and chewed it.
“I’m not going to any inn.” Meena tried to sound stern, but her voice was far too weak to do it convincingly. “We have urgent business to attend to.”
The Lump felt pressure rising in his chest at the girl’s stubbornness. Does she want to drop dead before we ever get to the Needles? He stood up and pointed down to Meena. “Please, listen to me! You’ve dragged me all the way across the kingdom to get your dragon.” He looked over to Flynn then back to Meena. “You can’t just up and die now.” He stopped pointing and let his hand drop to his side. “You have to get better. You have to get your strength back so you can do your share of fighting against the ugly-eyed devil.”