by Dave Skinner
Chapter 33
“What is that?” Mearisdeana asked as the men dragged a wooden thing from concealment. It looked like a small, flat-bottomed, carriage without wheels. They had entered woods unlike those she had come to accept as normal around the same time she had noticed a taste to the air she had been trying to identify. The air had taken on a metallic taste that was not explained by the moss covered dense trees they were travelling through.
“It is a boat,” Waycan answered.
“What is it used for?”
“It will carry us out to the fishermen.”
“Carry us how? It has no wheels.”
“It floats on the water.”
“No, really, what is it used for?”
They had walked out from under the canopy of the trees while she asked her questions. With a wave of his arm Waycan motioned ahead of them. “It floats on the water.”
Mearisdeana lifted her eyes from the boat and stopped walking. Her brain attempted to make sense of what she was seeing. It was a green, undulating mass. “Wh … What is that?” she gasped.
“That is the lake, South Lake, to be exact. Do you not have lakes on your world?”
“No,” Mearisdeana whispered as the fear she felt constricted her throat. The lake was everywhere. It ran along the sand in both directions for as far as she could see. Ahead there was no end to it. And it moved. The creature rolled and reached towards where she stood, pushing itself up the sand, reaching, straining as if trying to devour the land and anything that stood upon it.
Bray and Ran had walked ahead carrying the little boat between them. As they got close to the lake it crawled up the sand to reach them. They stopped just in time, but the water tried again and again to grab them.
Waycan was waiting for her to move. “Come, girl. It does not bite.” When she did not move, he returned to her and took her arm. He tried to pull her forward, but she resisted. His grip on her arm grew firmer and he exerted more force. She went with him reluctantly.
Bray and Ran had positioned the small craft with its front part touching the water. They were stowing the packs and their longbows as she and Waycan caught up. Bray took her pack and placed it with the others.
“Your craft is too small,” she whispered, hoping they would reconsider this foolishness.
“It does not have to take us far, only out to those fishing boats.” Waycan pointed to tiny coloured items way out on the lake. Mearisdeana could see the things he meant. It was obvious that the lake was trying to devour them.
“There is nothing to fear, woman,” Ran growled. Bray and he had removed their high boots and were waiting in the water. Ran walked back up the sand to where she stood. “Here, I will carry you so that your cloak stays dry.” He stooped forward and lifted her in his arms, grunting as he did.
“No,” she screamed while struggling free. “It will devour us.”
“Nonsense, the boat is perfectly safe. All you have to do is sit absolutely still like a stone. That should be easy enough, after all you weigh enough to be made of rock and you look like it too.”
Stunned and hurt by his words she stopped struggling as he lifted her and placed her in the front of the boat. She sat perfectly still, holding the sides of the feeble craft, while Bray and Ran pushed it further into the lake and then climbed in. They took positions in the centre while Waycan—now also bootless—tried to hold the craft stable. Finally he pushed it forward and climbed in. The craft rocked crazily as he did, and Mearisdeana bit her tongue to stop a scream. Bray and Ran took up long sticks with flat ends and used them to force the boat forward. Mearisdeana closed her eyes and held her breath until she could not hold it anymore.
The two men worked their sticks in unison and the boat fell into a rhythm of movement, surge forward, glide, surge forward, glide. Mearisdeana found it was better to keep her eyes open, but she did not look around. She kept her vision locked on the pointed part of the boat in front of her until they eased up beside another slightly larger craft.
After Waycan talked to a man on the larger vessel, coins were exchanged and then, to her amazement, Bray and Ran both stood up. While Bray held the side of the larger boat Ran lifted her again and placed her onto it, followed by their packs and bows. Ran sprang aboard and Bray followed while Waycan steadied the small boat.
“May the Mother watch over you all,” Waycan called as he manipulated the small craft away.
Chapter 34
Ran led them off the pathway and into the trees. Mearisdeana could hear running water and soon they came to a stream. Ran signaled camp, and then disappeared back into the trees after dropping his pack.
It was the third day of their trek across the island of Maidensland. Three days of following narrow trails through dense muggy forests that assaulted her with a sense of green she could almost taste. This landscape was different from what she had previously encountered. The trees were as large, but they were covered in vines, and a dense plant Bray called moss grew on most trunks and branches. The air was hot and thick.
Mearisdeana knew what her tasks were as they made camp. She set about doing them. Find a relatively flat place for their beds, clear it of obstacles, ready for the ground sheets and bedding. Locate and clear a fire pit, nothing too big, just enough for cooking. Bray slipped away to gather firewood. He returned a few times carrying arm loads before he was satisfied. Neither of them spoke and they would not until Ran returned. If he gave the all clear they would relax, build a fire and prepare food. Once, he had returned and indicated that they had to move on. Later he had told her they had been too close to a cave bear’s lair.
Bray and Ran took turns scouting ahead. It was obvious they were both comfortable in the woods. They moved silently, in fact that was the first thing they taught her to do, to move quietly. She was learning. Bray said she was getting better. Ran just shook his head, but Ran was sullen and uncommunicative much of the time. She had asked him yesterday if he really thought she was heavy. He just smiled at her. She liked Bray much better.
Ran appeared suddenly from the trees. He did not say anything, but he gave the all clear hand signal, so they set about finishing their camp.
Hand signals were another thing they were teaching her. When they had left the fishing village and taken to the woods, she had wondered about her travelling partners. They did not speak, but always seemed to know what the other needed or wanted. Bray had explained it to her the first night while Ran cooked. He started teaching the signals to her that same evening.
She had been relieved that first day on the island when the fisherman had told them they would have to walk to the other end of the island instead of using a boat. The water terrified her. The fishing boat had been worse than the small boat when it finally headed home. The fishermen had moved the boat a few times during the day and had caught fish until the sun started to sink. She had not minded that, and the smell of the fish was tolerable after a while, but the trip back to the fishing village had been horrible. As soon as they came around the point of land that Bray said was the tip of the Tawshe peninsula, the lake tried to push them under by dropping huge amounts of water onto the boat. She was soaked through and terrified when they finally made it to the village’s harbour and docked. Ran had to pry her hands loose. Walking in the woods was much better although her leg muscles were complaining.
She wished she could drop her dayskin, if only for a short time, so that she could massage her aching legs properly, although today they were not as sore as they had been yesterday. Maybe she was getting used to the walking, and she had to admit that she had never slept so deeply.
While she lay out the groundsheets and bedrolls, Ran started the fire, and Bray plucked the three birds he had collected during the day. Food was one thing that she did not worry about. Both Bray and Ran were excellent hunters, and there was an abundance of game. They had purchased dried fish at the village, but had not used it yet. Ran and Bray always seemed to come up with something fresh to
eat. The birds he was preparing tonight had been killed by three accurately thrown stones as he had walked through the woods. Last night Ran had caught fish from the stream they camped beside. Mearisdeana had been reluctant to try them remembering the smell from the fishing boat, but cooking on the coals of the fire they had smelled wonderful, so she had taken a bite, and had loved the taste.
“There is clay beside the stream,” Ran reported to Bray when he came back with water.
“Clay baked quail, good idea,” Bray responded. From a small pouch he took a pinch of leaves he referred to as spice, and rubbed it onto the meat. He took the three plucked and gutted carcases to the stream, and returned with three balls of clay which he set in the fire.
“Will we walk all the way to Waysley?” Mearisdeana asked.
“No,” Bray answered. “That is not possible. Waysley is on Pointer Island which is the last island in a string of many. Maidensland is the first island in the chain.”
“So we will have to take another boat?” She almost kept the dread out of her voice.
“Most likely three times, but the last will be a ship—a much larger boat,” he clarified. Maidensland is the first of the islands called The Three Sisters. We have to take a boat from here to the next island, Swanrock, and then another to the last, Delving Island. There is a fair size port at the far end of that one called Delvingford. From there we will take a ship.”
“How many days will it take to walk across this island?”
“Another three should do it, and then we have to find a boat to make the crossing to Swanrock.”
“Will that be a fishing boat?”
“Probably,” Ran answered, “although that end of Maidensland is also known as a smuggler’s haven. Smugglers might agree to take us all the way to Delvingford. That would save us some walking.”
“Walking is fine with me,” Mearisdeana said.
“Swanrock will not be as easy a walk as here. It is not as long, but it is all rocks and hills,” Ran replied. “Those birds smell good, Bray. Do you think they are done?”
“Smell done,” Bray agreed. He fished a clay ball out of the fire using two sticks, broke it open, and tasted the meat using his eating knife. “Done,” he declared.
***
“Did you hear singing last night?” Mearisdeana asked the next morning as they were packing up. Bray and Ran both indicated no. “It must have been my imagination.”
Bray shouldered his pack and slipped off into the trees before Mearisdeana and Ran were ready. They followed shortly, heading along the trail. The sun was peeking through the canopy on beams that cast spots on the pathway. Mearisdeana found the play of light on plant life amazing. Had her world looked like this at one time, and if so why had it changed? Had the heat of the sun increased enough to destroy all the plants? There was so much research she wanted to do when she got home, if she ever got home. She pushed the doubt from her mind. Adamtay will come, or the wizard will be able to help.
Around mid-morning they rounded a curve in the trail and saw Bray ahead of them. He was standing waiting. He looked pale and disturbed.
“What is it?” Ran asked as they approached.
“Sirens.”
“Did you hear the song?”
“Yes. I was trying to fight it when my hand went to one of my knives. Touching it seemed to overcome their magic, at least enough for me to move away.”
“Handy. Do you have any ideas on how to proceed?”
“I found a bee’s nest, but starting a smoker is not a good idea in case they smell it. The breeze is blowing their way.”
“Then we will have to take the stings,” Ran said.
“What is happening?” Mearisdeana asked. She had understood the words, but could not follow the conversation. Too many concepts were unknown to her.
“There are Sirens ahead, and we must pass them by,” Bray informed her.
“What are Sirens?”
“They are magical creatures with a female head and body, but covered partially in feathers. Picture a sensuous dancer wearing feathers. They sing very beautifully, and their song has a controlling effect on others, especially men. We have to sneak by, but first we have to plug our ears with bee’s wax. I found a nest, but usually we use smoke to calm the bees before raiding their hive. It stops them from stinging. Their stings are painful, plus when they sting, they die, which the Mother frowns on. But if we build a fire, the Sirens could smell the smoke.”
“The Mother?” Mearisdeana asked. Bray made a sweeping motion with his hand to indicate everything around them. “She who supplies everything.”
“We are wasting time.” Ran started to strip off his leather jerkin.
“Wait, Ran. I can get the wax if you tell me what to do,” Mearisdeana offered.
“Why would it be better for you to be stung?”
“Watch,” Mearisdeana responded as she rolled up the sleeve of her cloak to above her elbow. She took the dagger Waycan had given her and ran it across her arm. The knife, although sharp, did not cut.
Ran’s surprised expression only lasted a moment. “Okay, the job is yours,” he stated. “I suggest you remove your cloak. They will get under it.”
Mearisdeana slipped out of her cloak and handed it off.
“The nest is in the crook of that broken tree.” Bray pointed to a tree just off the path. “Scoop your hand in and get as much as you can. Then walk back to us. We will be up the path a short way. The bees should be gone by the time you reach us.”
Bray and Ran moved on up the path. Mearisdeana waited until they stopped before she approached the bees. The tree was a fruit tree. She had learned to identify it when they had stopped the first day to pick apples from one. This one had divided into two trunks at the height of her waist, and a void had developed between the two branches where the bees had nested. There were a few of the small creatures around the hole in the tree but not many until she reached into their home. As she pulled her hand away, the air around her became black with them. She stepped away from the tree and made her way back to the path. The bees seemed to be everywhere around her and on her skin, but if they were stinging her she could not feel them. She focused on one sitting on her arm trying to stab her with a stinger protruding from the end of its tail—if that was what you called it. It tried twice and then took to the air again. Slowly she began to walk up the path. After some steps it was like walking out of a sand storm. The air cleared. By the time she reached the boys most of the bees were gone.
She held her hand out and Ran used his knife to cut small pieces from what she had gathered. He passed a chunk to Bray, and left some in her hand. “Put a small piece into your mouth and suck away the honey. You will be left with only the wax once the honey is gone. Watch.” He demonstrated and produced a cleaned piece quickly.
She popped a piece into her mouth and moaned as the flavour spread across her tongue. It was delicious. It did not take long for the three of them to clean their pieces.
“This is called honeycomb,” Bray explained. “It is bee’s wax.” He mushed some of the comb in his hands and worked it into a ball. “This is more than enough for our needs, you can toss the rest.” Ran poured an oily liquid over Bray’s hands from a small corked gourd he took from his pouch, then over his own and Mearisdeana’s. They formed small balls of the wax by rolling it between their oily palms. Before he stuffed his ears Bray turned to her, “No sound or talking until we give the all clear. Is that understood? And try to step where I step.” She nodded.
With her ears stuffed with bees wax, the world took on a different feel. They crept off the path and into the woods, moving slowly and carefully. She concentrated on following Bray, stepping where he stepped, ducking branches, moving silently. It was difficult at first. He seemed to move without pattern. Forward a few steps, pause, angle this way, angle the other way, pause, forward again. He stooped, sidestepped, and squeezed by. His hands never pushed aside a branch or bush. If he touched them
at all it was more like a caress, like the gentle stroke of a lover. That simile took root in the silence behind her stuffed ears. It grew as they moved until she sensed what Bray was doing. His movements were like a dance, a give and take with the pattern of life around them. She grew to enjoy it, and was disappointed when it stopped.
The sun was well past its apex before Bray led them back onto a pathway. “That was … intense,” she said when they had cleared their ears, using a word from her own language to describe what she had felt.
“I do not understand, intense,” Bray responded.
“It means, sensing sharply, or heightened awareness.”
“Heightened awareness is necessary when you dance with the Mother. She is not always a kind mistress,” Bray stated. “You danced well, Mearisdeana.”
Chapter 35
Cracker carried the last two treasure chests into Vee’s cave, and looked around for some place to put them down. He finally located a small pile of chests that looked like it would take these two on top.
“You need a bigger cave,” he observed to Vee when his hands were free.
Vee was slouched in a large, elaborately carved chair beside one of the braziers that kept the perpetual cave chill at bay. There was some grey at the edges of his scraggly hair. The top of his head was bald now, and his beard was flecked with more gray. He did not look happy. “We need to get out of these caves,” Vee said. There was vitality to the words that made a lie of his greying hair.
“We could build shacks down on the beach?” Cracker suggested.
“Live in a shack? Be lookin around you, man. We got more wealth than most cities. I got more wealth than some kings. Why do I have to live in a cave or a shack?”
“We be pirates,” Cracker stated in his slow way. “We can’t be pirates, and live in a city.”
“Why not?”