by Jackie Dana
“Every day they turn a blind eye to our troubles,” he called out to the group of people who congregated around him, his tone one of anger and accusation. “Just yesterday Abelin’s wines turned to vinegar, and this morning Jalyk reported sheep dropping dead on the hillside, and I need not remind everyone about our broken mill wheel. But have the Sarnoc done anything to help us? Do they help us feed our families or ensure the harvest comes in?”
In response, one of the men in the crowd, an elderly man wrapped in a woolen cape and supporting his weight with a wooden staff, managed to find the strength to make a fist with his free hand, and now was shaking it over his head. “Nay, brother, they ignore us!”
“Aye, of course they do. When was the last time the Sarnoc and their healers came to Loraden to tend to the sick and help the poor? Do you remember, good mistress?” he asked, and pointed to a girl with a brown scarf wrapped over her head who clutched a linen sack against her chest. She quickly averted her eyes, but shook her head all the same.
“You see? It is as I tell you. They have abandoned us, just as their gods did long ago.”
“It isn’t true!” This came from a red-faced woman standing beside a towering pile of salt-stained wooden crates, a large silvery fish cradled in her arms like a baby. “It wasn’t their fault they had to leave us. It was the Vosira’s doing.”
“Aha! So the Sarnoc have a defender in our midst?”
“Aye, and another,” a burly man called out from the perimeter. He held a pitchfork in his calloused hand, and his face was streaked from perspiration. “Mavano, I’m tired of hearing this drivel every day. Good men and women are here to do business and feed their families. You need to stop this nonsense and leave us alone.”
“What, have you joined the ranks of the Senvosra now?” Mavano asked, followed by the crowd’s knowing laughter. “Good people, do you hear this? I speak the truth—the very truth your Vosira and his Council have proclaimed by exiling the Sarnoc—and yet after all this time some people still wish to see me cast aside!” The hooded man pointed to his heckler. “You’re a fool if you still believe they want to help us!” This was met with a chorus of whistles and shouts, and feeding off the energy of the crowd, Mavano continued, “no matter what a few misguided folks say, we all know the truth. The Sarnocs’ time has passed. You must see the truth in what I say!”
“Mavano,” the man with the pitchfork called out again. “You know where I stand on this. You need to stop all this nonsense and go home.”
“Or what? Again, will you call the Senvosra to haul me off? Or do you plan to do it yourself?” The crowd erupted in boos. “You see? The people of Loraden are sending a message to the Sarnoc. We don’t want them back in our lives, ordering us around, telling us who we can marry, which crops the farmers must plant, and how much cream to churn into butter. Most of all we do not want them telling us which gods to worship, or how to do so.”
Rynar had managed to squeeze in beside Kate, and Mavano noticed him. “My friends, look here! If my eyes do not deceive me, it is the Aldrish himself, joining us.” He pointed in their direction, and shouted out, “Aldrish, you agree with what I say, do you not?”
As if Mavano’s words were inconsequential, Rynar waved him off, and redoubled his efforts to push through the crowd. “Come on,” he whispered to her, “these crowds often get unruly, and we should not be caught in the middle. And I have no desire to engage that madman.”
The preacher wasn’t going to let him escape so easily, however. “Join me, Aldrish, and tell these good people how you came to accept the teachings of the Prophet. Coming from such a man as yourself, how can anyone deny the truth of your words?”
“Nay, not today. I am on important business.” He tugged on Kate’s hand.
In response, the man on the crate laughed, shaking his platform so hard she was sure it would come apart. “Aldrish, you of all people cannot spare a few moments to tell these people the truth of the prophet’s teachings? How he has predicted all the evils that we face today? How he alone has recognized the dangers we face? Surely nothing can be more important than that!”
“It seems you are doing well enough on your own,” Rynar replied sourly. “Let us be.”
Some people snickered, and another man called out, “you do not need the Aldrish to help you make dire projections for our future, do you, Mavano?” The heckler stood on the periphery, where he would not be trapped by surging bodies. Seemingly aware of this, he turned to yell to the crowd, “your prophet is a fraud.”
These comments led to a spurt of shouts and jeers, as the man must have expected, and then a scuffle broke out behind Kate and Rynar.
“Just as I feared. We must hurry,” Rynar warned her as he turned to push his shoulder past a fat woman with greasy hair and two young children clinging to her skirts. “People have been injured here in the past.”
Newly sensitive to the volatile situation, she willingly followed Rynar’s lead as he shouldered his way through the rest of the crowd. She could not avoid witnessing the rest of the interaction, however, for the crowd was now too large for them to traverse the square easily.
“Good man,” Mavano had turned his attention to the new heckler, and shouted out from his perch, “you are wrong. The Prophet is the only truth, and only he can free us from Sarnoc lies.”
With these words many in the crowd—by Kate’s quick estimates, easily over two hundred people—cheered loudly, though quite a few also shouted insults back at him.
“The Prophet will protect us.” It was an elderly man talking to his wife. Another woman around Kate’s age, in a well-worn linen dress with a shawl tied around her shoulders, cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted, “down with the Sarnoc!” which started a matching chant from the people closest to her.
As the chants grew in intensity, Rynar and Kate were able to escape the square by heading up a narrow alley. They passed by rows of stone houses, many of which leaned precariously in one direction or another. She longed for a camera to capture the image of the comical structures. In the streets, dogs and cats hunted for garbage, and they passed horse and donkey carts, goats tied to posts, and even a pair of chickens that darted across their path. There were water troughs, crates filled with hay, and piles of excrement, and in a couple of places, foul water streamed down the road like an open sewer. This might be an interesting place, but it wasn’t particularly pleasant.
When she least expected it, the maze of dark streets and alleys opened up, and a wide river stretched out in front of them, its banks shored up with high walls of the same grey stone from which the keep had been built. Stretching across was a wooden footbridge with carved railings, and beside the bridge was a series of steps that led down to the quay.
Upstream from where they stood, Kate could see the city walls in the distance, and in the other direction, a short ways downstream, was the keep itself, with the river flowing into a tunnel underneath.
“The keep is built over the river?” she asked as she stared at the remarkable sight.
“Aye. There are several wells to pull water straight from the river. It is quite efficient, and it guarantees fresh water should we ever be forced to defend the keep from an invading force.”
Taking her hand, he led her down to the quay below. Tethered to posts were a series of wooden boats, much like Venetian gondolas but twice as wide. They all were unpainted, but polished, with a platform raised in the front and a covered seating area.
“What’s going on?” she asked as Rynar waved for her to take a seat on a bench in the middle of one of the boats. “Where are we going?”
The Aldrish nodded to a fair-haired young man who stepped onto the boat. “I need you to transport Bhara Kate upriver.” Then he explained to her, “I need to send you out of the city. You will be safe with my aunt in Terralin.”
“What?” His statement unleashed a flood of emotions. Anger. Fear. And inexplicably, failure. “You’re sending me away?” The sudden displacement was almost as di
sconcerting as her initial arrival, and she jumped back to her feet, causing the boat to wobble on the water. “Just like that?”
“Aye, my dear,” he said with a fleeting smile. He seemed nervous, clenching his hands into fists several times. “I have no choice. It is for your safety.”
“Yeah, I heard you. I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I be safe with you? Who would want to hurt me, anyway?”
He furtively glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be standing behind him. “I give you my word that it was not my intention to do this, but I had no choice. You must go with the riversmith, who will see to your needs now.”
As if on cue, the man on the boat introduced himself. “I am Davor,” he said, with a bow of his head. He was younger than her, tall and lanky, with his tanned forearms sticking out of rolled-up sleeves. “You will be safe aboard my craft.”
“No, that’s not right.” The sudden announcement still shocked her, and she wasn’t willing to capitulate. The last thing she wanted to do was be shipped off to the middle of nowhere. “I don’t want to leave.”
The wind whipped at Rynar’s shirt and hair as he nodded once. “While that may be what you desire, your fate is elsewhere.” Again, he glanced over his shoulder, and his hair blew in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I will see you soon.” Without further delay he spun on the heel of his boot and headed back into the maze of alleyways.
As she stared at his retreating figure with her mouth open, the river craft quickly pulled away from the dock, giving her no options other than to fall back onto the bench and settle in for the journey.
Chapter 9
Considerably lower than the streets on either side, the view from the river offered little opportunity to sightsee as they slipped through the city, but that mattered little to Kate, who sat on the bench with her arms crossed, silently fuming.
She knew she had no right to expect anything of her new acquaintances. After all, she had appeared in this strange land without explanation or means to care for herself. Without money—without even as much as a change of clothing—she was entirely at the mercy of those who wished to assist her. Logically, she accepted this, and felt gratitude to Rynar and Lillia in particular for caring for her over the past day.
At the same time, she bristled whenever someone else, particularly a man, made decisions on her behalf. Growing up as the only child of a single mom, she had learned self-reliance and independence early on, and sometimes her willingness to challenge authority got her into trouble.
And right now, she was angry, and stubbornly didn’t want to do what she was told.
“Davor,” she began, seeing that they were about to approach another wharf, “let me off up ahead.”
He replied without turning around. “Bhara, I wish I could comply, but the Aldrish commanded me to take you out of the city. I dare not question his orders.”
“What if I jumped out?”
Davor plunged the pole down deeper, and the craft slowed. Turning to face her, he said, “Bhara, please do not make this difficult for me. I am obliged to see you safely beyond the city walls.”
He didn’t say whether he would stop her from jumping or not, however, and this omission made her wonder what would happen if she tried. “Did you know about this ahead of time?”
“Know about what?”
“Rynar’s plan to send me away.”
The young man looked startled. “Why would the Aldrish discuss his plans with me? I am a riversmith, nothing more.”
She frowned. “So you don’t know what’s going on, then?”
He took a moment to watch her before responding. “Nay, I know nothing more than you. However, if the Aldrish believes you to be in danger, then it is worth listening to his counsel. He is not known to be careless in his actions. For him to escort you to the wharf personally must mean it was a matter of great importance to him. And, if it helps any, you truly are safe here on the river, so you should relax. We have a long journey ahead, and there’s no point in fretting the entire way.”
Kate gnawed on her thumbnail, trying to figure out what to do. She had no idea what Rynar had planned for her, and although his rapid disposal of her onto this boat felt initially like a rejection, she knew it had to be more complicated than that. Things were happening in this strange place that she had no context to understand. All she could go on was that, so far, the odd man had shown no inclination to harm her. Wherever she was headed, whatever this Terralin place was, surely it was no worse than throwing herself into the river. She needed to keep her wits about her and do what she needed to do to survive until she either got some answers or found her way back home. Reluctantly she decided it was worth going along for the ride, so to speak, and see what came of it.
At about the time she came to this conclusion, they slipped through the river gate in the outer city wall.
“This is the main channel of the Amberia River,” he explained. “From here, the river will become much wider, and no one on the banks will be able to harm us.”
She nodded, and watched how Davor stood on the boat’s bow, with his legs slightly parted for balance, his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He looked like Tom Sawyer, minus the straw hat. He held a thin silver-tipped wooden pole upright in the water to steer the craft, and as they continued upstream, she could see no form of propulsion, despite the small boat slicing through the swift current as if it offered no resistance at all.
“To your left is Monmora Hill,” he said, gazing towards a steep rocky outcropping. It was quite high, the summit hidden by clouds, and its base grew right out of the river bank and seemed to stretch for miles into the distance.
“If that’s just a hill, I’d hate to see what you call a mountain.”
“Ah, well, the Carpasic Mountains are just beyond Monmora.” He raised one arm to point off in the distance. “You can see the faintest outlines of them at the horizon.”
She cupped her hand over her eyes and gazed in the direction he indicated, and could indeed see a mountain range poking through the clouds. “How far away are they?”
“I know not, Bhara. I have never gone beyond Loraden, other than along the river.”
***
Not long after they had passed Monmora, they entered a dense forest, with huge old-growth trees looming over them. Here sunlight barely poked through the thick growth of trees that stretched their limbs, like arms, overhead.
“We are now officially within the Arsdala,” he announced. “The forest stretches down the very center of the island, and we will remain within the forest the entire way until we reach Terralin.” With one hand remaining on the pole he had been using to steer the craft, he crouched down to reach a flask carefully stashed under a ledge, and after uncorking it with his teeth, took a deep swallow of its contents. “Most people call the forest Lockleaf, though. It’s common knowledge that if you wander into the forest un-welcomed and unprepared, you’ll never find your way back out. The trees lock all trespassers within their grasp. Only a lucky few are ever able to leave again.”
“That’s a great story.” She gave an uneasy laugh. “Of course, the trees don’t really lock anyone inside...” She hesitated when she saw the serious look in his eyes. “You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head. “It’s an ancient forest, Bhara, and very dangerous for travelers.”
“But if it’s as large as you say—surely people would have to travel through it sometimes?”
The riversmith looked thoughtful. “Aye, there are a couple roads that run through the forest, and a few villages along those roads. I stay on the river, so I wouldn’t know those routes personally. Except for those who live here, most people avoid the roads, because the fhaoli are notorious.”
“Fhaoli?” she repeated, stumbling over the odd term.
“Outlaws.” Davor shifted his weight to steer the boat around a rock. As if for her benefit alone, he quickly added, “we are safe here. The only way to avoid them is to travel by river, because even the f
haoli won’t attack riversmiths.”
“Well, that’s a relief then,” she said, not really meaning it. His words caused her to feel anxious, even a little trapped. “I could see why outlaws would make the forest dangerous. Though it still sounds like you’re saying that the forest is magical or something.”
He dipped the pole a bit deeper. “Perhaps it is, in its own way, just as all of nature is magic. But if you expected me to say there was some sort of spell on the trees, then nay, there is none that I know of.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You know, I’ve been expecting you to tell me that you’ve been using magic to power this boat, because it looks like you’re hardly doing anything!”
In response, Davor frowned, and abruptly steered the raft to the bank, allowing it to crunch to a halt on a narrow shelf of gravel. “Did you think this easy for me, Bhara?” he snapped.
She hadn’t meant to insult him. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that we’re making good progress against the current, without you as much as breaking a sweat.”
“Aye, but it’s not magic.” He lifted his pole from the water and held it up so she could examine its tip. “Glysar,” he said, pointing to the silver metal, “allows this to work. Although I need not paddle, the effort drains me all the same. Indeed, nothing comes freely, Bhara. Only with intensive Sarnoc training was I able to learn how to transfer my energy directly to the kelash pole.”
“That’s impossible—” she began, and then thought better of it. Her being here at all was impossible; everything else seemed to pale in comparison with that primary fact.
In response to her exclamation, he shrugged, and pushed the boat back into the river. “Watch, and decide for yourself.” As a demonstration, he didn’t immediately send the pole into the water as he had been doing, and as a result, the craft began to drift rapidly back downstream, spinning almost out of control. She gasped, grabbing hold of the bench. Quickly Davor closed his eyes and dropped the pole, silver tip first, into the river, and with no other show of physical exertion, suddenly it was as before, a straight course, smooth, and to her perspective, effortless.