Horse and rider strained as one, yearning to be free from the unwanted grasp. Instinctively, the horse fought to be free as much as the rider wanted to be free, its heavy breathing and the painstaking plodding of each step it took clearly audible.
Sufficiently free, the first man untied the line and pulled it in several yards to throw it back to Captain Brodst who was now fixed approximately midway between the two. It took several attempts before the rope reached the captain and when it finally did, he relayed it to the second man.
Knowingly, Captain Brodst kept his mount moving so that it would not sink too far into the muck of the mire. Once the second rider was at a safe point, Captain Brodst instructed him to make a loop and throw the line back. He secured it tightly to his saddle horn and then to the astonishment of the receding two, who were moving back to the safety of firm ground, he turned and plunged deeper into the quagmire.
Defeat was another word he frowned upon.
His scowl was now plastered to his face in thick folds. “Think lightly,” he whispered to his mount, “we will find a way.”
Initially, he tried to circle around the area where the others had been stuck. Unfortunately, he was caught up in the same sinkhole they had been stuck in. He probed with the keeper’s long stick. The search for a spot that was not excessively soft told him he had to retreat in the direction he had come from.
Undaunted by the small setback, he made the detour and then pushed on. He attempted to go around in the opposite direction, and moved outward laterally to the right until he found a spot where he could press forward.
Much to his relief he came upon a tiny spot of land, an island in the middle of the muck, a minute area a mere five feet across and three feet wide, but it was a hard surface from which he could maneuver. Hiding his elation as reservation returned, he stifled a shout for joy. His exhausted steed was rewarded with generous strokes and a brief reprieve.
One last time, he plunged into the muck of the mire, and after only a short struggle again to the right across a small patch of dank swamp, he found the road. In a soft, steady voice he whispered, “Hold on, young princess. I promise you’ll soon rest in a warm, warm bed.”
The captain started to call out to those behind. “A warm bed awaits!” he intended to say, but a faint sloshing, slurping noise caught his trained ear, and no words escaped his lips.
He turned in time to see a dim figure emerge from the gray of the fog. Instinctively he dropped the walking stick, his hand going to the hilt of his long sword, and his heart skipping a beat before he recognized the once grim shadow. He raised a hand in confused salutation.
“Captain, why did you leave ranks?” he asked.
Chapter Two:
Past Thoughts
Hot, it’s so hot…
Endless waiting played heavily on Seth’s faith. Yet he knew it was faith that he must maintain, for there was nothing else. Only Mother-Earth would carry them to safety or deliver them from life.
Ah, please… please… make the sun go away… make it end…
A full day sun blossomed overhead. The struggle to keep squinted eyes open was borne. Once closed under the beating sun, blisters would return and with them infection, and then eyes might open no more. The ruinous combination of sun and salt water had already desiccated and blistered his body, yet it was his eyes that seemed his most sacred pride.
Seth struggled to his knees. He tested the strength of the pieces of ropes and tattered clothing that held the raft together. Salt water despoiled them. Still, they held well. Thank you…
A sudden tremor in his mind sent Seth’s thoughts careening outward. Br’yan! Seth called out.
He perceived no return response, though he could feel the other’s anguish.
Oh please… please, hold on…
He carefully removed the cap from the last water bag they possessed and put a single droplet to his own parched lips.
Give me strength… He wanted more, he wanted every drop the bottle contained. Give me strength…
The water’s caress as it moistened his lips caused a shiver throughout his body. The yearning for more increased, yet he could not, would not, allow himself to partake of it.
His hands were shaking. Give me strength… He implored.
He lowered the water bag. He reached over to where Br’yan lay, and cradled his companion’s head upward. Slowly and painstakingly, he dropped the precious liquid to Br’yan’s lips, and savored every drop as if it touched his own lips. He continued to drop the water to Br’yan’s lips, drop by precious drop, until the brother could swallow. Afterward, he did the same for Galan.
Br’yan’s and Galan’s faces were covered with sun blisters, as was his own, but his thoughts were only for his fellows. Two must survive no matter the cost, he whispered to himself, two must survive—Queen Mother’s last words of warning to him. Delirium enveloped his thoughts and the words echoed through his mind. Somehow he must shield them, somehow they must all survive…
More long hours under the burning sun did little for Seth’s clarity of mind. He was nearing total delirium. The only thought that kept him near sanity was the one single thought that had kept him through the last three hours. Two must survive, two must survive no matter the cost, went the echo in his mind. Surely some time ago he had ceased thinking it, yet the echo still clung to his mind.
With great persistence, he moved from a sitting position to a kneeling position—waves shifting the raft and his fatigue made the small accomplishment a difficult chore. He held there motionless for a moment and tried to recall why he had risen to his knees. Then, after a lengthy pause, he sank back down to his haunches. There must have been something he had wanted to do, but what, he couldn’t recall.
Two must survive, he whispered.
Weary, he slumped down onto his side. He closed and shielded tired eyes, using the tattered shards of a once magnificent cloak to mask his face. For what seemed hours, the ceaseless up and down swaying of the raft lulled him. By luck or fate, or perhaps a little help from Great-Father, he managed to focus his will, though only for an instant. He reached outward with his mind trying desperately to reach a knowing consciousness. He found none.
Yet, the momentary clarity of mind also allowed him to concentrate. Surely there was an answer to their dilemma. He pondered this. Something had gone wrong from the start, but what had it been. Had there been a traitor among them? Was there a traitor among them now? Was it Br’yan or Galan?
No, paranoia. Seth dismissed the idea of a traitor. No one of the Brotherhood would ever betray Queen Mother—Sathar, whispered his conscience. No, Sathar betrayed all. Survival is keyed to the past, the answer is there, if only I can find it.
Exhausted, Seth started to drift off to sleep and was quickly lost to his dreams. Dreams in which he could replay events that had unfolded against them.
No longer was he in his beloved homeland, surrounded by the peace and serenity of Queen Mother. Now he was thrust out into the strange and cruel world, into an unknown fate. Only Great-Father knew how the long struggle would end.
His mind wandered further and floated through delirium to mixed conscious thought. He began to think back, back to the time before they had left their homeland. At first, in this mixed-up delusion that to him seemed real, Seth heard only the voices, his and hers. Yet, as his thoughts cleared and he entered a deeper dream-state, he pieced together disconnected thought without much detail.
It was to this at first colorless world of dream, with only the voices, that he fled.
Some time later, a voice entered Seth’s dream. Quickly, Brother Seth. You must wake now or it will be too late!
All thoughts of sleep were instantly gone. The voice sent a shiver careening down Seth’s spine.
Quickly, quickly now, the voice hastened.
Suddenly he was unsure whether the voice was within or without. Was it his own mind that called out the warning, or another?
A shifting of the raft caused Seth to open his eye
s. Was the voice of alarm within or without?
He stepped back into the dream-thought, which was difficult but successfully managed. He ran from his room, down of series of twisting halls and into the great monolithic entry hall. He slowed his pace here to a stately walk. After he had crossed the hall, he descended wide translucent steps of alabaster into the great open courtyard that spread out in gothic proportions in front of him.
This is why I have chosen you, Brothers of the Red, he called out, greeting those already assembled. He spoke powerfully now into the minds of the chosen few. You were each hand-picked for the task that lies ahead. Queen Mother has spoken and her protectors have listened. Go now to the harbor, Sailmaster Cagan awaits you.
He inspected each as they departed the courtyard. He stopped the last brother, and chased a whisper of thought after her. Brother Galan, I had wished you to remain here leading the Red in my stead but it could not be so.
Galan turned and the two locked eyes in a deep drinking gaze that spoke volumes. Her open thoughts streamed to his mind. She was remembering the kiss of many days ago. The meaning of it still confused her.
Shifting on one of his heels, Seth turned about and marched back up the long alabaster stair into the monolithic entry hall and swiftly along it. Queen Mother had retired to a meditation room and to this is where Seth hastened. But Seth did not find Queen Mother there, and it wasn’t until many precious minutes later that he considered checking High Hall.
Queen Mother was seated at her place in the middle of the hall, eyes directed straight at him. Seth said, We leave now, Queen Mother.
Yes, I know, she imparted softly, yet forcefully. May Mother-Earth protect all her children who must now leave their home to journey to the world of Man. May the Father guide you on your journey to safety.
Beckoned by feelings mixed in with the words, Seth looked into Queen Mother’s eyes. He had been trembling though he hadn’t known it until her soft eyes forced calm into him. Good-bye, my Queen. We will succeed in this endeavor. We will bring word to the Alder King and persuade him to join our cause. As I have sworn my duty, nothing shall stop me from completing this.
It was difficult to stare into eyes with such emotion for any length of time, yet when Seth attempted to look away, he was drawn back again by her words and her thoughts. I have great faith in you, Brother Seth, though I regret your having to make this journey. Alas, all is set in motion. There can be no turning back now. It is up to fate and faith to bring you back safely to our shores.
I have no regrets, Queen Mother. We will succeed.
Then by my leave, go swiftly, said the Queen as she touched her hand to Seth’s brow. She left her index finger lighted there while she said these words, and this, I whisper only to your mind, my son. I as Queen Mother can see shadings of what is yet to come. While I am powerless to stop what has been set in motion, I can say this. You must always be prepared for the unexpected. Never let down your guard. You must accept what you alone are fated to do. Always retain your faith, never let it dwindle…
Never let it dwindle, repeated Seth.
...Always make it burn brightly as a red-hot ember of your being. Your faith will shelter you. Fare-thee-well, my son, and remember that above all else, two must survive the journey, for only one will be able to return to our shores…
Never let it dwindle, repeated Seth as he turned away.
Waves beneath the raft shifted and just as his thoughts were coming to a clear, full focus, he was jolted from his slumber. He opened bleary eyes to a night sky. He did not marvel at the arrival of darkness. The night sky only meant cruel heat was gone and bitter cold had replaced it.
He was thankful that Br’yan and Galan were soundly sleeping. They had survived yet another day beneath the untiring fury of the day sky.
He opened the water skin and put several droplets to his lips. He could have easily finished that last bit of water in the container. It would have only taken a second more. Momentarily, he reveled in the fantasy of it slipping coolly down his throat. The fact that his throat was swollen and every such swallow would have brought sure pain did not taint the longing.
Give me strength, he implored.
Only as he raised the container back to his lips did he find restraint. Thank you…
Two must survive, went the ceaseless echo in his mind. He turned his eyes back to the dark waters and a thought from the dream found him. The mind shield. The mind shield could resist his probing thoughts. Anyone could be lurking out there in the darkness, waiting just beyond the next crest or trough.
High Hall, why High Hall? Seth thought suddenly, though he didn’t dwell on this long. He was elated. Keys beyond the confusion in his mind could be found. Br’yan, Galan!
He had considered the others a moment ago, though the thought had slipped away before he had a chance to focus on it. Galan, Br’yan? he called out again.
Neither stirred.
A panicked probing assured him they were alive, although he didn’t like the weakness that had come from Br’yan and it worried him. Convinced that in order to survive the journey he must lose no more of his companions, Seth was prepared to go to any length to ensure their survival. He would have slashed his own wrists and fed them from the blood that oozed from the open gash if he could have. In the very real delirium of his mind, this notion was suddenly appealing, until he realized it would quicken his own passage from life. And life, especially one’s own, was sacred.
Suddenly, he wished he had learned more about the sea. He knew little of the creatures that lurked beneath the dark waters, only that at night he saw them, the ones called krens with the high dorsal fins, circling round and round their tiny raft. When he had been stronger he had chased them away by sending harsh emotions into their underdeveloped brains. Now he was too weak to attempt this—and nearly too weak to care at all.
Somewhere in the convoluted corners of his mind, he made a connection between the circling predator and Br’yan. Suddenly, he remembered the water bag still clutched in his upturned hand. He awoke Br’yan and forced the brother to drink a few precious drops, but no more.
Do not waste, brother, you need this more than I. You must live… came the shallow whisper into his mind, the voice was Br’yan’s.
Drink, I will not tolerate nonsense.
Afterward Seth gave Galan an equal portion of the water. Drink, drink, he said to Galan. The supply of water is almost spent, soon we will all be without its life giving essence…
Although his teachings and his faith told him otherwise, he felt completely responsible for the fate of his two companions. If he had but one wish, he would do something, anything that would ease their suffering.
It is time you saved your strength, imparted Galan.
Surprised by the voice, for he had been sure his thoughts were sealed, Seth apologized. I am sorry, Brother Galan. I did not mean to trouble you with open thought.
Seth, you know better than that. Our fate is predestined, you cannot alter it. You cannot stop the inevitable, you cannot hold back the winds, or the looming hands of fate…
Seth listened to her words yet he did not accept them. The weight of guilt had already scarred him.
Sleep well, my Galan, he said, although he doubted Galan had heard him for she was already gathered in a heavy sleep. The presence of the Father faintly came to Seth, as he, too, slipped quickly back to sleep and delirium. His dreams of remembrance grew surprisingly richer.
Two must survive, echoed once more in his thoughts, just before the dreams gathered full force.
As the first shafts of light from an early morning sun shot over the horizon in the east, Seth stirred. The light touched the haze of his mind and caused him to rub his burning eyes. A dry yawn issued from his mouth, and then with one partially unclenched eye, he squinted toward the brightness.
It will be a clear day.
He both welcomed the sun’s warmth to end the night’s cold and feared its erosion of their bodies. For him, the days were lon
ger than the nights and, upon reflection, he did indeed prefer the night despite the often bitter cold.
Time passed. The sun seemed to wither and weaken him even more this day. The dryness and excruciating pain of his throat aroused him to its swelling—it was nearly swollen shut. He attempted to squeeze down a lump of dry, pasty spittle, and cried out in a muffled whimper as he did this.
So much water around me and none to drink.
Their small supply of fresh water was nearly exhausted and this was now the only concern in his frazzled mind. Seawater. It was all around him and he could drink none of it.
Why can it not rain, Father?
Still unconcerned for himself, he first touched a few precious drops of moisture to Galan’s lips then covered her face and arms again with the tatters of his robe. He drank then, a little more than he should have, barely getting the drops to slide down his aching throat. Then he gave Br’yan the last few drops the water bag contained.
Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches: Omnibus Page 21