Shadows

by Michael Duncan

  “Calm down!” Aaron ordered. His authority echoed in his voice. “We won’t help ourselves by losing control. Have we gathered all our gear?” Braden nodded an affirmative. “Lorik, can you help Rayn?” Lorik gave a nod of assurance. “OK, let’s move out.” His hand on his sword, Aaron gave a quick grin of approval, glad to be in command of his circumstances again.

  He and his four companions began an ordered march to the river. Garam led. Close behind him, Braden followed with much of the gear upon his back. On his heels were Lorik and Rayn, holding onto each other and desperate to keep pace with the two dwarves. Aaron followed and continued to watch for their pursuers.

  As they rounded a corner, a pristine mountain lake nestled in a massive gorge came into view. Glaciers reached to the mountain peaks and supplied the lake with countless rivulets, streams, and waterfalls. The crystal water glistened and sparkled and reflected the spires as pure as any mirror might have done. Trees lined the terrain. Large pine and spruce, fir and a host of others kept vigil around the water. Two rivers flowed out of the lake, one made a noisy exit to the north, as it poured water over a large, tumultuous fall. The other river departed to the south, slow and steady into the heart of the mountains. Garam turned toward the southern river. He followed a well-worn path to the water’s edge.

  Braden stopped with a shout. “Trolls!” he cried.

  At Braden’s shout, Aaron ran ahead, his sword drawn for battle. Two trolls, large grey beasts at the edge of the lake splashed in the water. Aaron noticed two other figures there as well; two dwarf children who desperately tried to escape the troll’s torment.

  The forlorn cry of a desperate mother echoed in Aaron’s head as he ran toward the water, outpacing his companions to the shore of the lake. The trolls failed to notice him until he had run his sword through the back of one. With a massive splash, the troll fell face first into the lake and never moved again. The other troll watched his companion fall and threw aside its victim in order to attack Aaron.

  Aaron ducked and slashed as he fought in the cold shallows of the lake. Icy water swirled and splashed around his knees. He parried and hacked at his opponent, but could gain no advantage.

  When the rest of the company arrived, Garam and Braden rushed into the water, axes ready. Waist deep in the lake, Braden ducked a certain death blow from the troll and chopped at the troll’s leg like the trunk of a tree. Sharp as a razor, his axe tore through flesh and bone and completely dismembered the creature. The troll collapsed in a heap into the water, and Aaron plunged his sword through the troll’s chest, the final blow.

  On the shore, two dwarf children clutched each other, paralyzed with fear. Garam returned to them, his battleaxe in his hand. “Be calm, children, there are no more trolls.” As Garam spoke, the dwarf children fell into his arms, sobbing and trembling. He reassured the two and clasped them both on the shoulders to calm them.

  “Young ones,” he said finally, “we have need of a boat. Have you any that can be spared?” One of the two children stood, still trembling and took them to a fishing boat. It seemed small to Aaron, but it was capable of holding six dwarves. It had been hidden in a large patch of thorny brush, and Braden and Garam struggled to free it.

  “Lorik, Aaron!” shouted Braden. “We need your help!” It was a heavy, sturdy vessel, made with thick planks and fitted with broad oars. Together the four of them mounted the boat on their shoulders and with one heave brought the craft to the lake. Rayn watched, as he gathered up the gear.

  “All aboard!” barked Garam. “We must depart now!” Rayn sat at the bow, Aaron sat with Lorik on the center plank and the two dwarves sat at the stern. The company cast off and began rowing toward the southern outlet. In a moment, the lake was behind them. As they floated down the river they watched the two young dwarves still huddled on the shore, diminishing in the distance. The group of six dwarves arrived at the lake, but just stood and watched as the boat sped downstream, out of Hidden Valley.

  ****

  Lorik and Aaron rowed hard, swiftly moving through the massive canyon and down the river. Immense grey cliffs loomed over them on either side; huge, sheer stone walls reached to the sky and guarded the river from any intrusion. The sun did not reach into the depths of the canyon and made their journey seem like a sojourn through perpetual twilight. Large pillars of stone stood like sentinels in the water, while a cold breeze blew through the gorge. The mammoth walls of the canyon reached down into the depths of the river with no landing area to moor the boat. No trees, no brush, no foliage of any kind grew along the watercourse, just sheer grey and brown walls of solid rock kept the travelers company along their journey.

  Aaron and Braden shivered in their wet, cold clothing. Both were soaked head to toe from their encounter with the troll. Rayn took two fresh cloaks from the bundled baggage and gave one each to his two wet companions. Garam was dripping as well, but had only suffered the water up to his waist as Aaron and Braden took the brunt of the troll’s attack. Aaron declined the dry cloak as he and Lorik rowed with such zeal that the canyon seemed almost a blur as it rushed past.

  “Captain,” spoke Garam, “you and Lorik can quit rowing so hard. We’ve passed beyond the reach of the guards, and I doubt that anyone will come for us along this river.”

  Exhausted from the effort, Aaron let his oars rest as ripples of water casually drifted off the boat to the edge of the slow-moving waterway. Now, Aaron took the garment offered by Rayn, gratefully donning the fresh attire.

  Their small craft rode very low in the water, and the river occasionally spilled over the gunwale.

  “With this water coming in our boat, I don’t suppose that we might end up swimming the rest of the way?” Lorik asked Braden.

  Braden chuckled at the thought. “Don’t worry! This small boat is fit for six dwarves, and there are only five of us. I think that we’ll find ourselves safe upon the river for some time.”

  Aaron looked at Braden as a growing respect filled his thoughts. “Braden,” he said, “I was told that you were imprisoned for acts of cowardice. Let me say that you showed your courage today. I am grateful to you.”

  “Captain,” Braden spoke with broken voice, “thank you. I fear that we will all have to find greater courage before our journey is complete.”

  Aaron nodded in agreement and then turned his attention to Garam who sat silent in the stern and watched the river drift past them. “You said that this river was a perilous journey,” Aaron commented. “It seems to me that this is nothing more than a gentle drift along a deep channel of water. What makes you so sure that we won’t be pursued along this river?”

  “Captain,” returned Garam, “we are just a mile along. Right now we are high in the mountains, and the river follows a gentle channel. It will change dramatically, and we will be forced to navigate along paths without light when this river runs through the heart of the mountains and exits out on the other side.”

  Aaron noticed a distinct look of concern in Garam’s dark brown eyes. “Is there something more?” asked Aaron.

  “Well, Captain,” Garam’s voice was hesitant, “I don’t know if there is any port along the journey. We may be in this small craft for two days without relief.” Garam looked up at the monstrous cliffs that loomed menacingly over them as he spoke.

  “I’ll tell you this, dwarf,”—Rayn’s voice was filled with scorn—“it’s a site better than being locked up in your prison!” He sat in the bow and rubbed his injured leg.

  “Private,” injected Lorik, as he spun around to fix his gaze upon the young soldier, “you owe these two dwarves your freedom, if not your very life! I expect better from you!”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Rayn said with disdain. He motioned for Lorik to lean closer, “But I’ll tell you this,” he spoke quiet enough for only Lorik and Aaron to hear, “I won’t trust either of them. They are enemies of our land. I don’t believe for a moment that they intend to help us or intend to allow us to keep the item that we seek. And I caution you to k
eep your eyes on them.”

  Lorik leaned over to speak to Rayn, “Young man,” his voice was low and stern, “You will change your attitude, or I’ll change it for you. You are under orders and will obey. It is not your place to challenge the captain’s authority, and I won’t have it! Do we understand each other?”

  Rayn nodded, though a glaring look of resentment and anger filled his eyes.

  Lorik turned away from Rayn and fixed his attention on rowing the small craft. Aaron gave a quick glance at the sergeant and offered a slight nod of approval. He tried to relax in the confined space of the boat and pondered what to do with his belligerent young soldier.

  The companions journeyed silently for several hours. The river moved along, picking up speed as it coursed deeper into the mountain canyon and away from the dwarf realm. Miles vanished behind them without a harbor or inlet to give the travelers relief. Just cliffs; high, rugged cliffs provided the only scenery for them.

  “We haven’t eaten since we left the city. Braden, will you open the packs and see what we have for food?” Lorik asked.

  Braden rummaged through the satchel, and pulled out several cloth-wrapped items and distributed them to the company. Wrapped inside the cloth were dry, cooked bricks of layered bread-wafers. Between each wafer, a layer of some form of fruit provided ample flavor for the meal. Water was plentiful as it swirled all around them, and Lorik took their flasks and filled each one. They ate in quiet rumination, allowing the river to take their craft ever southward.

  The day passed without event as the sun drifted across the azure sky and showered a brief display of light into the dim chasm. The canyon narrowed and the waters of the tributary leapt and danced in foamy whitecaps. The river sparkled with the assorted ripples and broke against the cliff walls. The brief glimpse of sunshine was a refreshing break from the grey, half-light. However, the joy was short lived.

  “Look! The river is coming to an end!” Rayn exclaimed.

  Aaron glanced up to see what Rayn was pointing at.

  A high wall rose in front of them and blocked their way. The strange sight made it look as if the river suddenly came to a violent end. Water buckled against the sheer cliff, angrily pounding against the rock and exploding up in massive towers of waves. To their left a small spit of land carved out of the rock face provided a diminutive landing, barely able to hold the five companions. However, Garam directed them to steer toward the shore. Aaron and Lorik heaved against the current and fought their small craft until it turned toward the refuge and, with some effort, made landfall.

  Rayn was the first to disembark the vessel with Aaron and Lorik close on his heels. They heaved their boat higher onto the shore. Afterward, Garam and Braden stepped out of the boat and carried the packs to dry ground. Rayn stumbled, and struggled to walk. He hobbled over to a small log which had washed up on the river’s edge, bleached pale by its exposure to the elements, and sat down. Lorik joined him on the large piece of driftwood.

  “Is the leg bad?” Lorik asked.

  “Just stiff,” Rayn replied. “Being cramped in that boat only helped to tighten the muscles. I’ll be fine in a moment.” Rayn stretched and rubbed his injured leg.

  Meanwhile, Aaron and the two dwarves discussed the next phase of the journey. He stood near the river and looked southward to the maelstrom that appeared to be the end of the waterway. He stroked his beard as he pondered the fate that brought him and his men to such a place. “How do you expect us to navigate such a violent current?” Aaron looked over toward Garam as he puzzled over their situation. His voice was anxious and stern and cut through the air like a sword.

  “I told you at the outset that this journey was dangerous,” Garam replied. The dwarf walked to the shore and stood next to Aaron.

  Garam pointed toward the great upheaval of spray. “What you see is the entrance to a dark passage under the mountains. This river has cut a channel through the heart of the Shadow Mountains,” he said. “The tumult you see before you is not the end of the river. This is where it plummets into the rock, but I am told that it is possible to navigate the course. Very few have managed it, but it is our only passage. The river is too strong at this point to try and row back, and the cliffs are a much greater danger. We can either stay here or go on, there is no other choice.”

  That, of course, is obvious, Aaron thought. “The men are tired, and we need a rest. Let us make a camp here in this hollow and continue in the morning.”

  “That is not a good idea.” Garam’s voice echoed with a sense of caution. “This is the only location on the river that is safe to stand so it is the one place for any of the wild beasts of the mountains to venture down for a drink. We will not be safe here for the horros have the ability to climb the sheer cliffs. I don’t need to tell you the dangers of those beasts. We can remain here for a short while, but not long. It may sound strange, but our safest road will be to attempt the river.”

  Aaron assessed the river as it rushed into oblivion. He had faced, and perhaps cheated, death before. He looked down at his stalwart companion and a stern determination filled his eyes. “We’ll give Rayn a chance to rest and then we leave.”

  Garam nodded his approval and began to re-pack the gear, storing it under the three bench seats. Before he packed it all, however, he opened a flask of thick, dark liquid and passed the container to each of the party members. “Drink this,” he commanded, “it will help us all keep our strength.” Braden took it with gladness, as well as Aaron and Rayn who had imbibed the drink on their journey to Brekken-Dahl. Lorik, however, was wary of the concoction and cautiously sipped at the liquid.

  Time passed as swift as the river, and, grudgingly, the five companions moved to regain their places in the boat. Rayn, after his rest and the healing drink walked with greater strength; just a slight limp hindered his progress.

  “Captain,” Braden said, “perhaps it’s better if Garam and I took the oars. Both of us are more adept in the darkness and might have a better chance to navigate the river under the mountains.” Aaron nodded in agreement and the two dwarves took the center seat. Lorik and Rayn sat hunkered down in the stern and Aaron took the bow.

  Garam spoke to Aaron. “You will find a small stone in the pack under your seat. It may be helpful after we enter the cavern.” Aaron fumbled around in the satchel until he produced a small, oblong crystal, blue like sapphire, with a slight glow that flickered in the center. It fit well in the palm of his hand, and he tucked it into the inner pocket of his shirt. Patting it, he made sure that the gem was secure against accidental loss and placed his hands on the bow of the boat and prepared to shove the craft into the river.

  Aaron fixed his gaze at Garam with a puzzled look. “How long is it that we will be underground?”

  “I am uncertain.” Garam said with all sincerity. “We have traveled many miles already for the river is running swift, but it may be more than a day before we see the light of the sun again.”

  “All right,” Aaron said. He braced his legs in the dirt and shoved the boat into the water, hopping in at the last.

  ****

  The power of the river captured their little craft and tossed it through the channel. The heavy rapids burst and beat against the hull as the travelers flowed with the swift current, barely able to maintain control. Before them, a churning turmoil of white water bellowed with an angry roar. Garam and Lorik gripped the oars like weapons against the rushing current. With strength Aaron had never seen, the two dwarves fought against the might of the river and kept the boat from tumbling into a chaotic frenzy of motion.

  The spray off the breakers drifted and floated around them and doused them with a continual shower. Aaron looked at his men as worry and desperation filled their eyes, wide with the terror of the plunge that awaited them. The roar of the powerful water crashed into the hollow of the mountain, growing louder as they neared. Aaron turned around to look.

  The view terrified him. Before him, the river split into two channels, swirling against
a large outcropping of rock that protruded from the middle of the river. Massive breaks crashed against the towering monolith. In a wash of mist and foam, the river disappeared into a black abyss. Aaron sat stoic, knowing it was too late to turn back. The river gripped their small craft with the full force of its power. The five companions held on as they entered the jaws of the mountain, a descent, perhaps, into death.

  From behind him, Garam shouted against the roar of the water— “Aaron!” He turned his attention to the dwarf who fought with all his might against the current. “Which channel?” Garam’s plea was desperate as he and Braden held the boat against the might of the river.

  Aaron looked again at the river’s course. “Take the right!” he shouted back.

  With a concerted effort, Braden and Garam forced the craft toward the right passage of the river then allowed the current to take them over the falls. “Hang on!” Aaron shouted as the boat plummeted over the edge of the abyss.

  The boat descended into the depths of the cavern as darkness engulfed the craft and water rushed against them. The oars were useless so Braden and Garam held the gunwale as the craft pitched and rocked down the powerful torrent. Behind them, Lorik and Rayn held on with firm determination. In the bow of the boat, Aaron gripped the rail with all his strength to keep from pitching over into the maelstrom as he peered into the misty blackness before him.

  Then, with a sudden crash, the boat found the bottom of the falls and hit with such force it felt as if it skipped like a stone against the surface of the water. All five held their places as their small craft drifted in darkness. Exhausted and worn, Aaron slumped in his seat, too tired to move. Hundreds of feet above them a small window of light glowed like a hole in pitch-black sky. The sound of crashing water echoed all around the travelers. The river’s power was tempered, and slowed so much that the boat casually drifted in the gentle currents.