by LeRoy Clary
He pulled his attention back to the log floating in front of him, but also started comparing the speed they moved to an estimated walk on level ground. They easily covered twice the distance, but anyone walking on the shoreline would also have to contend with loose footing, slippery rocks, logs, brush piles, and underbrush.
He judged the river moved them at two or three times what a man could walk, and possibly faster. The water felt colder than earlier, the heat leached from his body, but he held on. While they would emerge wet and cold, they would outdistance, and possibly lose their pursuit.
The river narrowed near sunrise when the sky lightened in the east, and the stars in that direction faded to nothing. As the river narrowed, the water flowed faster. Instead of running almost straight as it had all night, there now came twists and turns. The river flowed around and over boulders as large as houses. The sound increased to a roar that prevented conversation.
A glance at the nearest shore indicated their speed was fearful. Despite no sleep, Raymer felt no desire to close his eyes. He came wide awake as a boulder in the water larger than his cell flashed past. The log he floated behind struck a submerged rock, and he felt the pain as his knee contacted it.
His teeth wanted to chatter, but the sunrise brought the promise of warmth. He hoped the ride ended soon. His fingers no longer had feeling. He would lose his grip before long, and he wondered how the others were doing. He hadn’t seen either of them for a while.
The walls of the canyon closed in further.
While the narrow portion of the sky visible became blue instead of black, no sun or warmth reached them. The river ran so fast he fought to cling to his log. Raymer no longer felt his hands and fingers, and he choked on water several times, but there was no beach or strip of sand to swim to and rest.
Ander appeared ahead and held up his fist to draw attention. He pointed to the right bank and started kicking his legs to force his log to move in a direction. Raymer spared the time to look where Ander pointed and saw a small area in a backwater that contained floating debris, and possibly a beach.
As he started to turn to the shore, Quint floated from behind and waved an arm to catch their attention. Instead of turning to the shore, he pointed ahead.
Raymer followed Quint. He shouted at Ander with no response. Ander moved closer to the whirl of water and finally looked behind. A confused expression took hold, but when he saw Raymer’s frantic arm waves, Ander reversed his direction and fell into line behind him and Quint.
At the next bend of the river, it widened and the current slowed. In a calmer area, Quint pointed up to the wall of the canyon ahead. It ended as if it was a curtain hanging beside a window. The wall on the left continued for some distance, but then it also ended abruptly.
Raymer realized that at their present speed, they would be at the end of the canyon wall in less time than if they had rested in the backwater. Besides, going back into the water after a rest would have been hard. As much as he was cold and needed to rest, he held on. As the canyon walls widened, the sun reached the river. Almost instantly he felt better.
The three watched the approaching end of the canyon as the river widened and slowed even more. The mid-morning sun warmed their backs Raymer could feel his fingers again, but the feeling was sharp pricks of pain. Even though they were still in the water, the sunlight and warmth on their backs helped.
Later, the river began a wide swing to the right, in the direction the army would arrive. The canyon wall on the left had finally decreased until it remained only a small, solid rock cliff. At times, it looked no taller than a small tree. A small river flowed from the left to join the larger. Quint untied his staff and abandoned his log. He swam for the shore with an awkward sidestroke as he maintained the grip on his staff.
Ander and Raymer arrived at the shore together, helping each other stand in the soft mud that was the left bank of the river. The warm sun immediately took away part of the chill, but Quint simply pointed them ahead to the rocky portion of the shoreline. He remained behind and sloshed water into their deep footprints until they were obscured. Then he brushed the tracks in the dry sand. Only then did he follow.
“Follow that river,” Quint managed between gasps for air.
All three struggled up the bank of the smaller river and over a crest that prevented them from seeing the valley they left behind. Quint fell to his knees and after several deep breaths dropped to the ground and lay with his face to the sun. Raymer and Ander did much the same. All fell into exhausted sleep.
Near midday, the sun had warmed and invigorated Raymer enough for him to wake. He quietly started sorting through the blanket he wore like a backpack. Grabbing a handful of nuts, he backtracked and watched the far shore and river. Their pursuers would come from one way or the other. Maybe both.
“See anything?” Quint asked from behind.
“Nothing. Be nice to know when they get here.”
Quint frowned. “Be nicer if they don’t reach this place until tomorrow and they stay on that side of the river.”
“Think that will happen?”
“I do. My briefing told me how fast the river flowed, especially near the end of the valley, but I think I’m glad we did it at night so we couldn’t see how scared we should have been. Only fools would attempt the float down it again.”
“Who told you that?”
“Got you wondering, huh?”
There are a lot of things I’m wondering about. First on my list is wondering if staying with you will cost me my freedom. Should I take off on my own? “I’d like to know if those troops are after you. Or me. Or both of us.”
“Maybe they’re trying to rescue Ander. He’s the son of a nobleman.”
Raymer had been lying on his stomach in the sand while watching the river for signs of the king’s men, but now he rolled and faced Quint. “Am I safer going alone?”
Quint’s normal give-a-care smile faltered. “Do what you think is best.”
“You carried a treaty to the King. You’re also the son of a nobleman. That’s your story, so far. I am just a member of the Dragon Clan and cannot see why they would chase me. I’m nothing.”
Quint remained silent, his expression hardening.
“Come on, give me something,” Raymer demanded. “They would have killed a simple messenger to prevent word reaching your people, but they kept you alive. You let small things slip, especially when you’re mad. I think you’re much more than a high-born messenger-boy. That makes you important to the king.”
Quint stood, brushed himself off and started to turn, but held off speaking. He looked down at Raymer as if offended, then relented. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
Raymer watched him stalk away. After one last wary look across the river, he followed. Ander was now awake and had spread all three blankets in the sun to dry. He chewed an apple and watched them approach. Looking at Quint, he said, “Do you know where we go from here?”
“Follow this river and later today we’ll find a small cave with supplies. Then we head west, away from the river to Northwood.”
“That’s all you’re going to tell us?” Ander asked.
“The cave will have the supplies we need,” Quint snapped.
Ander smiled, “I understand that. I just wanted to make sure you two have a plan.”
Quint cast a questioning glance at Raymer.
Raymer avoided it. He said, “We all have our reasons for being here. Any of us is free to leave the others at any time. Our basic plan was to escape together, and we’ve done that. Nothing more.”
Ander picked up sandals that were so wet they were limp and soggy. “I think we need to dry these in the sun, or they’ll fall apart. How are your feet?”
“Not too bad,” Raymer said. “But it’s a good idea. We can carry them on a string around our necks so they’ll dry faster.”
“Travel up this river should be easy. The ground is softer and more underbrush. There are animal trails. Just step easy,
but be quick about it,” Quint said.
As they gathered their meager belongings, Ander asked them both, “Will we get away?”
“Barring bad luck, I think so,” Raymer answered when Quint didn’t say anything. “My guess is that there are troops waiting for us to emerge from the top of the canyon. More followed us down the ledge, but they will try to hike the canyon instead of swimming, and that will take them, at least, two or three days. The others will arrive at the bottom of the canyon where we left, either later today or tomorrow, and set up camp to wait for us.”
Quint said, “That gives us two, maybe three days’ head start. Once they figure out, we managed to escape their trap it won’t take them long to find this place.”
“How?” Ander asked.
Quint waved an arm that encompassed the surrounding area. “There are not a lot of options. They know where we are not so that only leaves a few places where we can be. Their scouts will find our sign quickly.”
Ander settled the blanket and contents on his back and shifted it to a comfortable position. He carried his staff awkwardly as if he had never used the weapon, which was probably true. He said, “Then they’ll be after us again. Want me to take the lead?”
Maybe we should have found one of the men who fell off the ledge and retrieved his sword for Ander.
“Why not?” Quint chuckled.
They followed the river for a hundred steps and when a larger path appeared they took it. It paralleled the river, but further from the rocky, rough shore. Later it veered off slightly, and they continued, walking at a fast pace that was near jogging. On downward slopes, they often did run.
Raymer expected his feet to be more of a problem, but they were partially healed from being in the water, and he hadn’t worn shoes for a year. The bottoms of his feet were tough, but he was cautious. Sore feet would slow them. He had no illusions that the army would quit chasing them.
Ander set a pace that the other two barely managed to keep. He didn’t speak. His straight back and the firm set of his mouth suggested he too was escaping, and Raymer wondered at what Ander withheld. Raymer walked behind Ander, and Quint followed up, often glancing behind.
The small river, they followed, flowed through a shallow valley covered in trees and dense brush. As their path took them away from the river they crossed several smaller streams that flowed into the river, and twice they paused long enough to slurp water by lying face down and placing their lips on the surface. It seemed the quickest way to drink the most.
As they found other animal paths or trails, Quint sometimes ordered the direction he wanted them to take. As they climbed a small hill, Quint paused to look behind to the end of the cliffs of the canyon they had floated down and then he turned and lined up their destination with a snowcapped mountain.
Bear Mountain. The top was flat instead of pointed, and snow clung to the slopes year around. It was unmistakable. It was also the destination Raymer had intended to reach when he left his home in the Raging Mountains. Bear Mountain stood at the end of the range he’d called home his whole life, and there was a clan of his people, another family. A man named Myron was their leader.
If they traveled north of Bear Mountain, they’d have easy passage to Quint’s home and family. But if they traveled to the southernmost slope instead, and knew where to search, they might find a great split in the granite that would lead to a high meadow. In that meadow lived the family of the Dragon Clan.
At least, that was the rumor he’d been sent to confirm when he’d been captured by the king’s men. Raymer kept quiet. He’d wait and see where Quint took them. If he tried to cross the northern route, as most did, Raymer would remain quiet.
As they continued, he allowed his mind to wander. What would be worse than allowing them to stumble onto the relatives he was seeking? However, he now knew the general direction they’d take and how Quint knew where to go and where to locate supplies. But not who placed them there.
Ander paused and pulled a handful of nuts from the blanket he carried on his back. He held them out to the others.
Quint accepted some and said, “We’re making good time, but we’re getting a little off course. We need to go more north, but not too much. Next time you can, turn us to the right.”
“You want to lead?” Ander asked with no trace of anger or lack of respect.
“You’re doing fine. Besides, at the top of the next hill I may hang back for a while to watch our back trail,” Quint said.
Raymer asked, “Seen anything back there to concern us?”
“Nothing. But I just want to make sure.” Quint ate his nuts and pulled a piece of waterlogged, dried meat from his blanket. It looked unappetizing, but he bit a piece off and chewed.
Ander said, “We’ve been going as fast as I can walk. The royal troops wouldn't move that fast even if they managed to find our trail.”
Raymer said, “Their horses can move faster.”
Without another word, Ander spun and set a pace that may have been even faster than the one he’d set earlier. He swung his arms high to help lengthen his stride, and his breathing sounded deeper.
Something’s eating him. Raymer kept up and listened for Quint’s crashing through the underbrush behind. He and Raymer had reason to be here. Ander had been an accident. I didn’t even know Quint carried him until we were near that farmhouse.
Raymer didn’t like not knowing something that might dictate his future. Quint’s actions were predictable. He wanted to escape, although there was also more to his story than Raymer knew. But as a prisoner under a lifetime sentence, Quint wanted to get away. His first and primary objective. As simple as that.
Ander, on the other hand, grew up privileged and of the royal class. His appointed position as the Dungeon Master might not have been the work he’d dreamed of. However, it was still a position higher than peasants could ever aspire to hold. Yet, Raymer didn’t believe Ander was being deceptive.
“Hey, Ander. Tell me again why you’re going with us.”
The path they followed was wide enough for two side by side, and Ander slowed a few steps until they walked together. The morning had warmed and promised to be hot by the afternoon.
“I can’t tell you because it’s too hard to express. I’ve been thinking of running off and making my own way for a couple of years. Perhaps exploring unknown lands.”
“There must be more I can’t understand. Being Dungeon Master seems like a pretty good life. No hard labor. You’re the boss. The guards do what you want, or you dismiss them. I don’t even see where you would have to enter the dungeons more than a few times a ten-day at most.”
“I would also order men to die at the direction of the king, some innocent of crimes other than upsetting our paranoid ruler. I’d watch others rot in their cells like you were doing. If the King required information, I would supervise the torture and report the findings to him.”
They walked without words for a short time, each lost in deep thought. Raymer said, “There’s more.”
“Boredom is maybe the word I’d choose. Growing up, I pictured myself a great warrior, or a leader of strong men, and the center of beautiful women. I’d sail ships to far off lands and return a hero.”
“Instead, you got appointed to supervise prisoners, executions, and torture.”
“Yes. In a stinking hole under the palace where no royal wants to enter, let alone admit that such things go on. As for the pretty women, you can imagine that none would wish to live a life with such as me, a man with the stink of the dungeons about him.”
Ander shrugged. “I think I see. It made you about the bottom of the barrel as far as life in the royal palace went.”
“Treated like a fool, or worse. Most royals saw little difference in me and the prisoners. Even my best friends avoided me after the appointment. One held his nose and told me I needed to bathe after I entered the dungeons. I hadn’t been down there, yet.”
“It’s all about what people believe.” The path narrowe
d again, and Raymer quickened his step until he pulled ahead. Now and then he used his staff to clear the way. He glanced behind to find Quint motionless on top of the last hill they’d climbed. Looking ahead, he noticed they had strayed to the left of Bear Mountain. The underbrush thinned and they crossed a clearing of tall grass, brown in the late summer heat.
Their present course would take them in the direction where he hoped to find more of the Dragon Clan, so he turned enough to head for the north slopes of the mountain, the direction of Quint’s home. Later, he noticed Quint had caught up with them from the corner of his eye.
Being in the sunshine felt unnatural after a year in a cell so he was careful to walk in the shade to prevent more sunburn. The dirt between his toes was dry and somehow pleasant to walk upon. The ground had more give than the stone floors of his cell, almost a bounce. Of course, it may have been in his mind.
But he couldn’t deny the air smelled better, his body seemed to want more of a challenge, and his mind grew sharper. For a year, his mind and body had barely existed. Now he wanted to shout, dance and sing.
A curious feeling overcame him. He felt wary. Tense. Then his back began to tingle, a barely perceived feeling, just enough to draw his attention. The tingle turned to a tickle, but there was no humor or joy.
Eyes to the sky, he found the approaching black dot against the blue directly behind them. It flew with powerful strokes of its wings. It let out a screech so loud and long Ander covered his ears with his hands, for all the good it would do. The dragon cry went deeper than just offending his ears. It penetrated to his soul.
What’s it doing?
It descended low as it flew nearer. Raymer felt no fear. The closer it drew, the faster it flew, and the lower as if attacking. Raymer’s back felt like his mouth had when he’d foolishly eaten a red pepper. He drew up on his toes and held his breath as it passed directly over them, so low he might have thrown a stone high enough to strike it.