The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Dasen had no intention of visiting Gorin West. He planned to bring their boat into the docks at Gorin East, abandon it, and go immediately to his father’s office in the city. The people there could then arrange their transport to Liandria – far from the invaders, the creatures, and their pasts. He had been dreaming about it ever since they’d drifted through Wildern eight days ago. He had counted the miles and dreamed about the beds, the meals, the safety they would find there. Yet more than anything, he hoped that it would save Teth, that being clean and safe and fed would bring her back from whatever pit had claimed her.

  Dasen was watching Teth at the front of the boat, fly swarming around her that she barely had the energy to swat, when the great white bluff that marked Gorin East first caught the sun, sparkling like a diamond in the distance. No sight had ever been so welcome, and he nearly jumped from his perch at the rudder when he saw that glimmer in the distance. “There it is, Teth,” he crowed. “Do you see that shining? ‘Like a diamond at the river’s end.’ That’s what they say about Gorin East. Doesn’t it look like a diamond, shining there at the end of the river?”

  She did not share his enthusiasm. Saying nothing, not even catching his eyes, she stood and shambled down the ladder into the hold, leaving his exhortations for the river, the trees, and the sky.

  He let out a breath, felt his anger turn to helplessness and loss for the hundredth time. Please, let there be someone in Gorin that can help. Please, let it be soon, he prayed. No bigger than the speck of a diamond it resembled, the city was still miles away. It would take hours to reach it. After ten days on the river, Dasen knew they would float by like torture.

  Already rumbling, his stomach reminded him that he had finished the last remnant of their food last night – a handful of barley cooked into a flavorless mush. The nuts and dried fruit had run out two days before, the vegetables days before that. The last of the fishing hooks from the equipment in the hold had been lost shortly after Aylesford, not that they had ever caught anything but snags. They’d been on tight rations for days, trying to save enough to complete the trip, and he was always hungry. He could only imagine how Teth felt. It was only her, largely untouched, portions that were keeping him going – she had eaten next to nothing since he had dropped her into the boat.

  Just like the first few days, she spent her time sitting on her perch at the front of the boat or sleeping in the hold. When she did emerge, she was lifeless, shoulders slumped, spine bent, limbs loose, seeming to lack even a glimmer of the strength that was her hallmark. She ate little, talked less, did not bathe, bush her crudely chopped hair, or wash the one set of clothes she had worn for nearly two weeks. And she did not let Dasen anywhere near her – not that he wanted to be near her in her current state. She smelled such that he could barely enter the hold. Her clothes were greasy and sweat stained. He could only imagine what was living in her matted hair. And there seemed to be nothing that he could do to help her – begging, rationalizing, yelling, cajoling only left her in tears. It had put them in a pattern of mutual avoidance that left Dasen feeling lonelier than if he’d been alone in truth.

  Steering smoothly around a small island, remaining in the river’s main channel, Dasen saw something that ended his thoughts of Teth. At first, it looked like a chip had broken away from the diamond on the horizon and was coming toward them. As he stared, that chip broke and broke again and again until the expanse of the river seemed to be composed of shifting white shapes, growing slowly on the surface of the water. It took Dasen far too long to realize that they were sails, and to his great surprise, they were getting bigger. After Wildern, he’d watched the sails of many passing boats grow distant. He had never seen them get closer.

  At Aylesford, there had been so many boats that the river was nearly impassable. They had been so thick that they had used every mooring and resorted to tying to each other. Dasen had considered joining them, but they had no money, no valuables, no connections, and if the docks were any indication, the city was already overrun. So it was that they simply allowed Aylesford to drift by just as they had done in Wildern. The multitude of boats that passed them in the days that followed seemed to validate that decision. Many of those had used poles or sails to propel them, but Dasen had no confidence in his ability to do anything more than steer, and Teth was not likely to do even that, so he settled for the leisurely pace of the river itself. And even those boats had steadily decreased in number until the last had passed them two days ago. They’d been alone ever since. So why were boats now going up the river?

  Soldiers, he realized. Soldiers sailing up the river to face the invaders. That was the only reasonable explanation. It sent him searching for cover. As much as he appreciated what those men were doing, he had no desire to draw the attention, or be in the way of, an army on the move, so he turned the rudder and steered them into an island standing out as a great clump of trees and weeds in the river’s center.

  “Teth,” he yelled, “there are boats coming toward us, up the river.” He paused. There was no answer. “By the look of it, there are at least twenty of them, and they’re definitely getting closer. We’re going to hide.” Another pause. No response. “There’s an island that will keep us from being seen from in front. They’ll notice us as they go by but will have to turn around if they want to bother us. You should be ready just in case.” The words were wasted. Teth wouldn’t do anything even if there were something to do. Might as well be talking to yourself, he chastised.

  The boat came into the island. Dasen turned the rudder hard and let the current swing the back of the boat around. The bushes, it turned out, were hanging over water, and the boat was nearly lost as their branches consumed the majority of the deck. Securing the rudder with a cord of rope, Dasen ran to the front, dodging thorn-covered branches, tied them off, and waited.

  It took longer than he expected for the first of the boats to pass. It was a long, low barge three times the width of theirs and twice as long with platforms running along each of the sides and a single large sail rising from a tall mast. The sail was billowed with the westerly breeze, while five men on each side used poles to propel the vessel further. From his angle, Dasen could not tell much about the ship beyond its means of propulsion, but he could imagine it was full of soldiers, a legion preparing to defend their homes against the invaders. He wanted to yell his encouragements to them but kept his hopes confined to silent prayers.

  That vessel was followed by twenty-two others all of similar design and propulsion, all riding almost impossibly low in the water. Several of the men with the poles looked their way, a few pointed, a couple waved, a captain frowned, but they otherwise paid them as much attention as any advancing column gives to the refugees they force from the road.

  When the last of them had gone and no others appeared for what seemed an eternity, Dasen climbed back through the bushes to the raised platform at the back and tried to see down the river. There was no sign of sails through the braches and tall grass, so he untied them. “They’re gone,” he called to Teth as he walked by the hold. “They couldn’t have cared less about us. We lost some time, but we should be to Gorin in a few hours.” The sound of Teth shifting on the bed was the only answer, so Dasen took up the pole and pushed them away from the island.

  A few minutes later, they were back in the main channel with the diamond of Gorin growing on the horizon. There was no sign of other vessels. They were alone on the river with their journey nearly complete. Soon, they would be in Liandria. Soon, they would have the world’s largest army between them and the invaders. Soon, they would have peace. Soon, they could heal.

  #

  The guards were firing at them. Dasen could only believe it because of the arrows falling into the water around them. He stared at the men on the docks as they notched another volley and began to draw back the strings. There was no sign that they would concede. “Turn,” Dasen called to Teth and searched for cover on the barren deck. The boat did not turn.

  The off
icial on the dock yelled, “Turn back! You may not dock here. The first volley was a warning. We won’t miss again.”

  Dasen did not want to find out. The range was only decreasing along with the official’s patience. He looked back at Teth. After twenty minutes of cajoling, she had begrudgingly agreed to take the rudder so that he could be at the front of the boat when they arrived in Gorin East, but even then, she had only moved it at his explicit direction. Now, she was ignoring him, attention locked on the approaching dock with as much conviction as she had shown since Thoren. Her dim, tired eyes had turned hard. Her sagging shoulders were stiff. Her indifferent frown was a determined line.

  By the Order, why now? Dasen turned from his wife to the soldiers and back. They had closed to fifty paces, and Teth had set a course as if to ram them. “Turn back!” the official, a squat man well older than his charges, yelled again. “By the order of the Duke, I am authorized to destroy any vessels approaching from the Kingdoms. If you do not turn, we will shoot you and burn your boat.” His voice quivered as he spoke. It was clear that he was not comfortable with his orders, but that did not mean he would not see them through. There was no way for them to win this. Those archers would only get closer. Their aim would only get better, and even if they made it to the dock, the guards would simply turned to weapons that were far more certain.

  An archer let loose. An arrow hummed past Dasen’s head. He threw himself to the deck and watched the shaft quiver in the wood behind him. “Last warning,” the official called. He held his arm out before the two other archers ready to let them loose.

  Dasen found Teth. Her eyes were wide, breath held, body stiff. She does still care. And as if that were the very problem, the fear turned to defeat. Her body lost its rigidity. She blew out the air she had been holding and seemed to deflate with it. As her shoulder slumped and back sagged, her hand yanked the rudder toward her. The boat responded, catching the current and turning quickly down what was now the Alta.

  Dasen fell to the deck, panting in relief, and watched the men on the docks drift away. The official let out a long breath as his men lowered their bows. Dasen’s eyes turned to the arrow quivering a few feet away. It had not been meant to kill him, but the next one probably would have. There had been no choice. As much as he wanted to be on the Liandrin side of the river, it would do them little good as corpses.

  Hoping Teth understood that, he looked back at her. She held the rudder, but her face was turned from the river before her. She was crying. Dasen wanted to slap her. He knew it was wrong, knew that he was supposed to be supportive and sympathetic, but it had been ten days now, and he was tired of it. He wanted to yell at her to get over it and help him. Instead, he watched the wall of granite slide by on his left, clutching his hands and grinding his teeth until he could control his frustration. A hundred feet of sheer rock face, it shown even brighter with the afternoon sun now hitting it directly. It was as magnificent as it was impassible. They could only glide past to the southern docks where another cadre of archers were waiting every bit as vigilant as their fellows to the north.

  “Keep moving!” a big man called from far in front of them. “The docks are closed. You cannot pass to Gorin.”

  Dasen sighed. He had fully expected that to be the case, but that did not mean he was not disappointed. A glance showed that Teth had heard. Without even looking, she pulled the rudder to take them to the middle of the river.

  Now what? he asked himself. Past the valley that held Gorin East’s southern docks was another longer, lower cliff. If they made it past that, they could ground the boat and walk back to Gorin East. Or they could continue down the river to Pilgrimage or Onaway. Pilgrimage was not much of a city, existing primarily as a starting point for holy pilgrimages into the Patterned Desert where Valatarian was said to have first reached enlightenment. Onaway would be a better option. From there they would be able to book passage on a ship all the way to Pindar if necessary, but it might take two weeks to reach the end of the slower moving Alta, and there might not be anything left of them by then. They could stop to get supplies in Gorin West, he supposed, but . . . .

  “Dasen, look?” Teth said from behind. Her voice was barely audible, but any sound from her held urgency now. Dasen looked up then bounced to his knees. Before them were a series of crude barricades, little platforms anchored in place just close enough that their boat would not fit between. Planks floated between the platforms to allow the complacent soldiers that stood on them to move from one to another. The structures spanned from Gorin West out across the river almost all the way to the long, low bluff that defined the eastern bank. To the side of the platforms, a handful of small boats were anchored with a half-dozen soldiers each, waiting for any ship that tried to break the blockade.

  A man on the platform directly before them was yelling something that Dasen could not hear, waving his arms, and motioning them to the west. Dasen followed his signals toward the docks. The message was clear. They were being forced to dock in Gorin West.

  For an instant, Dasen thought about running the blockade. Their boat could easily break through. He and Teth could hide from the archers in the hold. But the boats behind would have no trouble catching them, and the soldiers they carried would certainly not treat them gently if they had just drown their fellows.

  “All ships . . . to Gorin . . . turn . . . will board.” A few of the words made it over the sound of the river. The man who was yelling continued to wave them to the west. The guards to either side of him stirred from their malaise and notched arrows. To the side, one of the boats came alive. Men took up oars. Soldiers put on helmets and prepared their weapons.

  “Turn us!” Dasen yelled back to Teth. He sighed and walked over to pick up the long pole then lurched as the boat shifted beneath him. With down-hearted dejection, he pushed them toward the waiting docks. Apparently, not fast enough. They continued drifting toward the platforms until it became obvious that Dasen’s efforts would not be enough to keep them from a collision.

  A small ships appeared at their rear, and a half-dozen soldiers climbed the railing. “Here we go, son,” the oldest of their number – a sergeant by the stripes on his uniform – said to Dasen as he took the pole. “We’re seizing this boat by order of the Chancellor. We’ll take ya to the docks. Just sit down an’ don’t cause any trouble. Alright?”

  Dasen eyed the soldiers then nodded. A second soldier had brought another pole and was helping the first to stop their progress down the river. Two others guarded Dasen while the final two climbed the platform to take the rudder. Teth eyed the men climbing toward her with a look of terror. She looked like a starved, filthy animal, and Dasen feared that, like that animal, she might do something entirely unpredictable.

  “Let ‘em ‘ave it, Reth. Come down ‘ere wit me.” Luckily, Teth listened. She dropped the rudder and ran past the men, leaping down from the platform so that they were never within arm’s length of her. She ran to Dasen’s side and crouched beside him, looking small and fearful. Dasen nearly held his nose for the smell.

  “My name’s Jason an’ this is me brother, Reth,” Dasen said to the nearest guards. He had spent a lot of time sitting at the rudder thinking about the identities that he and Teth would take in a situation like this. He had learned from his previous mistakes. He knew that they needed original names that were close to their own so that they’d recognize them easily. He also knew that Teth would want to be a boy – not that anyone would believe she was a girl. “We’s from Thoren. Our pa put us on the boat ‘fore the battle an’ told us ta go ta our cousins in Wildern, but the invaders’ already there, an’ we . . . .”

  “That’s fine, son,” the sergeant interrupted. “We already know the story. We’ve heard it a hundred times. Are ya hungry?”

  “Sure are, sir. We ran outta food yesterday an’ ‘ad been keepin’ it tight ‘fore that.”

  “They’ll find ya something at the docks, but things are tight in the city. They’ve been shippin’ everything up t
he river for the invaders. At least the flow of people has stopped. You’re the first boat we’ve taken all day.” The man turned and looked at Dasen seriously. The bristle along his chin and cheeks was as much gray as black and the skin around his brown eyes was starting to slack, but they were surprisingly kind. “I suggest ya go to the work crews right away. Tell ‘em ya know how to work a pole, through from the look of it ya don’t. Ya both look too scrawy to load cargo, so that’s yir best bet. If ya can git on a crew, ya’ll eat. Otherwise, it’s gonna be hard. Just stay away from the camp. Ya hear me? Don’t go to the camp!” The soldier sighed, looking sad, then turned back to the job of bringing them into a mooring.

  Dasen nodded at the man’s back, but he had barely heard a word the man said after his mention of the invaders. Shipping everything up the river for the invaders, the phrase echoed in his mind. Why would Gorin West be shipping supplies to the invaders? he asked himself. Another part of his mind answered, the Kingdoms have surrendered. And then everything made sense. That was why they had been forced away from Gorin East, that was why their boat was being seized.